


Sing It Like You Mean It

by Genderfuck, Marzos



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Hollstein - Freeform, x-Factor au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 03:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3921283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Genderfuck/pseuds/Genderfuck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzos/pseuds/Marzos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura Hollis dreams of being the next winner of the X-Factor. The problem is, so does Carmilla Karnstein, and she's determined not to let some stupid ukulele player get in the way. Their hatred for each other is instantaneous and a rivalry is pretty much inevitable. </p><p>So, what happens when the judges are convinced they'd be better as a group?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Being a judge on a singing competition was not as entertaining as the editing made it out to be. The four judges sitting at the table for hours a day listening to auditions agreed that they generally were divided up like this:

60% Not good enough to go through.

30% God awful.

5% Decent– they go through.

5% Fantastic.

“Will, are there any more today? Tell me we’re done.”

“Sorry Danny. We still got two more acts to go.”

“Hey LaFontaine!” Betty interrupted, leaning to the judge on her right, “Wanna make another bet? Twenty bucks an act?”

LaFontaine rolled their eyes. “I need to see what they look like first,” they whisper, “Before I can decide if I think they’re going to be good or not.”

“Shhh!” Danny hissed, “The show is starting again.”

_Welcome back to The X-Factor! Here’s your host, JP Armitage!_

JP walked out onto the stage and waved at the applauding crowd. He tipped the newsie-style cap that had become his trademark. “Welcome  back everyone! We’ve only got two more auditions, and next week we start boot camp. Do either one of these aspiring musicians have what it takes? Let’s see!”

He stepped aside and allowed the first of the two to walk onto the stage. She was a brunette, fresh faced, holding a ukulele in her arms like a baby.

“….Hello guys.” The girl held up one hand, wiggling her fingers. “Sorry, you can tell I’m a little nervous.”

Danny–who sat right in the middle of the judges table, as the unofficial leader of the group–leaned slightly in her seat. “That’s fine. What’s your name?”

“My name is Laura Hollis.” She said softly.

“Well Laura, what are you going to be singing?”

“I’m going to be singing Little Things by One Direction.”

There’s snickering in the audience. A teenage girl with a ukulele, doing a One Direction song. It was kind of ridiculous. Danny looks at Will, Danny, and LaFontaine, and it’s clear they’re all thinking the same thing.  _Dear God, please let her not embarrass herself._

“…Alright. Take it away.” Danny said, smiling encouragingly.

Laura took a deep breath. “Alright.” Her fingers began dancing along the strings of the ukulele. 

 _“_ _Your hand fits into mine like it’s made just for me._

_I bear this in mind that it was meant to be._

_And I’m joining up the dots with the freckles on your cheeks,_

_it all makes sense to me.”_

Laura swayed back and forth ever so slightly as she sang, her eyes closing. 

 _“_ _I know you’ve never loved the crinkles by your eyes._

_When you smile you never loved your stomach or your thighs._

_The dimples on your back at the bottom of your spine, I love them endlessly.”_

Danny noticed Betty surreptitiously handing a twenty dollar bill to LaFontaine. They must have made the bet while she wasn’t looking.

_“I won’t let these little things slip out of my mouth._

_But if I do, it’s you, it’s you they add up to._

_I’m in love with you–”_

Danny held up a hand and signaled for the music to stop. Laura opened her eyes and smiled nervously.

“…So, uh, how was it?”

Danny looked at Betty. “Betty, why don’t you go first.”

Betty took a dramatic pause. “…I kind of love everything about you right now!” She exclaimed. The audience cheered. Laura looked like she’d pass out from excitement.

“Seriously though, you are just so freaking adorable! And what made you think of the ukulele?”

“I’ve been playing it since I was little.”

“Well, it’s as adorable as you!” Betty gushed.

“Uh, Betty, maybe we should talk to the other judges.”

“Well, I liked it.” Will said, “You need to be careful of being too cutesy though.”

“I agree with Will.” LaFontaine said, “Your voice is beautiful, but what you’re lacking is a little…swag. Can you get swag?”

Laura nodded vigorously. “Totally. I can be totally swaggy!”

The audience laughed, and Laura got four yes’s.

* * *

 

“We seriously needed to go to commercial after one act?” Betty groaned, “It’s not fair to us or the girl auditioning. Must be nervous as hell.”

“Betty, why are you even here if you hate it so much?” Will asked.

“I like the mentoring part. I just hate sitting through this.”

“Well, this is the last one.” LaFontaine said, giving their friend a nudge on the shoulder. “Hang in there.”

The intro music started again. This time the contestant who walked out–no, more like strutted–looked totally serene. She placed her hands in the pockets of her leath pants and smirked at the judges.

Danny already didn’t like her. “And what’s your name?”

“Carmilla Karnstein.”

“Well Carmilla, do you think you have what it takes to win this competition?”

“I think if I don’t win there’s something seriously wrong with this competition.”

There was an _oooh_  from the audience.

“Well. What’ll you be singing.”

“I’ll be singing Cry Me a River.”

“Go ahead.” Danny wondered if the other judges were hoping she wasn’t good, because she was already rubbing Danny the wrong way.

The intro music to the song started. When it was time for Carmilla to start singing she grabbed the mic stand, holding it so close her lips almost brushed against it as she sang.

_“Now you say you’re lonely._

_You cried the long night through._

_Well you can cry me a river._

_Cry me a river!_

_I cried a river over you.”_

In that moment, even with the leather pants and jacket, she had transformed from a punk rocker into a 1920s lounge singer with her low sultry voice.

_“And now you say you love me._

_Well just to prove that you do,_

_why don’t you cry me a river._

_Cry me a river!_

_Cause I cried a river over you.”_

She stopped. Stepped back from the mic for a second or two. Then suddenly grabbed the mic again and belted the last line.

_“Cry me a river!”_

The audience applauded. Carmilla stepped away from the mic and cocked her head, wearing that same self satisfied smirk. “So?”

Danny leaned forward in her seat again. “Okay, here’s the deal. You are so overconfident that it’s going to turn an audience off of you….yeah, I kind of cannot stand your personality. But that might have been the best vocal we’ve heard today.”

Carmilla nodded, burying her tongue into the side of her cheek. “Thanks.”

“It’s a yes from me.” Will said, “Danny is right though. You got to be careful not to come off as conceited.”

“Unless she has a right to be,” Betty said to Will.

“…Well, bootcamp will probably cure her of that.” LaFontaine added. “Are we going to vote?”

They took the vote. Carmilla crossed her arms with a grin. A unanimous yes.  _Of course._


	2. Bootcamp, Days 1 and 2

**Bootcamp: Day 1**

The large room echoed as everyone crowded around LaFontaine. Shuffled footsteps and hushed murmurs of excitement bounced off the high ceiling and filled the air with noise. Pushing her way to the front, an eager and excited Laura found herself a front and center spot. Prime real estate for such a tiny human.

“Welcome to Bootcamp! You have made it past the auditions and are now officially in the running to become the next X-Factor!” LaF grinned widely and applause erupted as everyone smiled and patted each other on the back. LaF quickly raised their hand in protest of the cheers, effectively silencing the crowd.

“Now, don’t get too excited! I know some dreams came true yesterday but this next week will be grueling. You will be going through voice training and improving your skills with your instruments - if you have one. You will each be assigned a judge to help you along.” LaF pointed to one of the corners of the large room to the remaining judges, Danny, Will, and Betty.  

“Our job is to make sure you are in the best possible position to get through the first week. Some of you need an image readjustment so we will be working on that as well. Now, we will separate you into groups, each group will have a judge as their sensei and each contestant will have time today to talk to and get advice from them. So, without further or do... Let’s get this party started!”

LaF whipped out a pen and a piece of paper from the front pocket of their short-sleeve button down and jotted down a note. They motioned for the other judges to come stand behind them before continuing.

“Wilson Kirsch?” LaF looked up from their paper and a tall gangly looking boy came through the crowd. Laura thought he looked like he would have been a frat boy if he was in college with his popped collar, faded acid wash jeans tucked into boots, and a cowboy hat on his head.

“That would be me, amigo!” He said, smiling wildly.

“Kirsch, meet Will. He is your assigned sensei. Will, here is your first victim.”

Kirsch went and stood with Will and they started to whisper quietly to each other.

“Next up, Lola Perry.”

“OH. Thats me!”

Laura twisted her head around to see bright red curly hair bobbing in from the side of the group. She looked very chipper and seemed to have her own keen fashion sense. She straightened her green suede vest and pulls at her cat turtleneck nervously before coming to a halt in front of LaF.

“Perry? You are with Betty.”

The blonde judge smiled and waved her over. Perry shuffled to meet her with a slight grin and shook her hand in greeting, wiping her palm on her pants afterwards like she was afraid of germs.

45 minutes went by and contestant after contestant got assigned a judge until finally there are only a handful left. LaF looked tired and had quite the rag-tag team of contestants behind them. They pushed their fingers through their hair with an exasperated looked on their face and sighed.

“Carmilla Karnstein?”

A small and intimidating looking brunette in all leather went to stand in front of Laura. Laura eyed her up and down, shifting her gaze from her hair to her butt to her feet and BOY was she gorgeous. Her long wavy hair cascaded down her back and her leather pants hugged in all the right places. Carmilla held herself with confidence and Laura envied that. She was confident in her ability, yes, but Laura was known to get flustered easily and would ramble about the silliest things. Like how attractive one of her competitors were, for instance, when she should be focusing on the competition...

“Must I be?” Carmilla spouted back as she pushed her bangs out of her face with a huff.

LaF looked annoyed with her nonchalance and pointed to Danny who looked like she was about to go full Amazonian on this girl already.

Carmilla grinned. “ _Oh_. I was hoping I’d get Danny Lawrence. This is gonna be fun.”

“You lost the coin toss Danny, deal with it,” Betty whispered to Danny, loud enough for Laura to hear.

Carmilla trudged back behind Danny, making sure to brush her shoulder just violently enough to make Danny look at her with an end-all death stare. Carmilla didn’t seem affected by it as she smirked and started picking at her black nails.

A few more names were called until the last one standing was Laura. She stood, awkwardly swaying from side to side; her yellow sundress fanning out in all directions as she twisted.

“Laura Hollis, you are with me.”

Laura looked up to see LaF smiling the biggest smile Laura had ever seen. Mostly probably because she’s the last name but also because she thinks they like her... or at least that’s what she’s hoping.

Laura hopped around to the back of the group, excitedly waving at her new ‘family’, for lack of a better word and patiently awaiting further instruction.

* * *

 

**Day 2**

 

She took careful and determined steps down the hallway and counted each time her foot hit the tile. 34, 35, 36, ..

Her chin pressed against her chest, taking deep even breaths to calm her nerves as she marched to the rehearsal room. 37, 38, 39, 4-

Someone bumped into Laura’s shoulder and sent her into a tailspin to the ground. Her hip smacks into the hard floor, sending a shockwave of pain up Laura’s side.

“What in the frilly hell?”

Laura looked up to see the leather-clad brunette, Carmilla,  from the day before standing above her with a grimace plastered on her face.

“Oh. I-I’m sorry! I wasn’t w-watching where I was going.” Laura spewed out, feeling heat rush to her cheeks.

Carmilla, for her part, actually smirked in Laura’s direction for a second--but just a fraction of a second, so quickly that maybe it was wishful thinking, because her face went straight back to the grimace and she snaps:

“Yeah, why don’t you try keeping your eyes forward next time?”

“Will do…”

Carmilla spun around and stomped off in the opposite direction of the rehearsal room.

_Well that was rude!_

Laura pushed herself off the ground, dusted off her jeans, and pulled her Doctor Who shirt down by the hem. No one was going to stop her today. She was determined to get to this rehearsal and do it right, the first time. Carmilla thought she could fluster her? Well, she had another thing coming.

She pushed the large metal doors open to the rehearsal room.  

“Hey, Laura Hollis! Right on time.” The room was empty for the most part, save a few chairs scattered around. LaFontaine was sitting in the chair pushed against the far wall, hands steepled together, one leg crossed over the other. They were sitting like a queen or something. Which made Laura the peasant, or probably more like the royal jester since she’d be singing for them… _.wait wait they're talking what are they saying Laura pay attention maybe you can still catch enough to know what they're talking about._

“....So you think we could try that?” Nope, too late.

“Uh.” Laura blinked. “Absolutely. Sure. Bring it on, I am up for anything!”

“That’s the spirit! So go ahead then.”

Go ahead what…?

“Well? Pick a guitar.”

Laura looked around and realized that against the far right wall there were a bunch of instruments. She had been wondering why LaFontaine told her not to bring her ukulele the night previous. Hesitantly, she walked over and looked at them. They were all electric things. This must have been part of ‘reworking her image’ that LaFontaine wanted to do.

So she needs to prove that she has--what did LaFontaine call it--swag? Well, then she was going to pick the most badass looking guitar she could. They were all really cool, so she settled on the biggest. It had skulls, flames, spikes jutting out the top, pretty much everything that Laura would normally avoid on a guitar like the plague.

“This one is speaking to me,” Laura said. Well, it was actually screaming ‘WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD USE ME’ but she was choosing to ignore it. Swag Laura. _Swag._

“Oh. Well. I have to admit that’s kind of ballsy. Come to the middle here and we’ll try out a song for you. Plug it into that amp there okay?”

“Sure!”

“So, do you have a song prepared?”

“Yep! Here I go…” Laura opened her mouth to sing and strummed the guitar.

_**BRAAAANG!** _

“HOLY FRILLY HELL!” Laura dropped the guitar and it clattered on the floor. LaFontaine looked down at it, trying to keep their expression as blank as possible.

“That was part of my personal collection of guitars. It cost me thousands of dollars to have custom made.” They said flatly, staring at the now broken guitar on the ground.

Laura, for her part, smiled sheepishly. “....Sorry?”

LaFontaine, to their credit, maintaind their composure. “You know what? Why don’t you practice in your room some more.”

“...Will do.”

* * *

 

In the rehearsal room for Danny Lawrence’s team, Carmilla was having about as easy a time as Laura.

“Okay, your singing is fine. We just need to work on your personality.”

“Specifically…?”

“All of it.”

Carmilla lounged against the wall. That’s all she did; lounged, loafed, sprawled out whenever she could. It annoyed the hell out of Danny. Was she even going to walk?

“I want you to walk forward to the middle here and introduce yourself.”

Carmilla took a step forward and Danny stopped her.

“No, try again.”

“What was wrong with that?”

“Looked too cocky. Again.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. Then she remembered that girl she ran into before. She had this bubbly bouncy way of walking. There’s no way in Hell or eastern Europe that she’d start acting like her, but she’d fake it to get through this rehearsal.

“That’s a lot better,” Danny said encouragingly when Carmilla demonstrated it. “Now, tell me about yourself.”

“My name is Carmilla Karnstein, I’m from Austria, I wear a lot of leather.”

Danny frowned. “That’s it? You sounded like you wanted to bite my head off.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. OMG! I am so so so EXCITED to be here right now! This is so, like, awesome!” Carmilla was, once again, imitating that ukulele chick. No reason why she seems to remember _her_ so well. Whatever.

“Hey, I am trying to help you! You’re never going to make it to the voting stage if you come off like a bitch!”

“I’d rather be a bitch that can sing than a bad singer who’s nice. I have enough faith in this country that I think the majority of voters will agree.”

“I...I...arrgh!” Danny waved her clipboard in the air. “You think you can get through bootcamp without my help--”

“More like I know I can, but continue.”

“Then this session is over. I have plenty of other people that will get the work, and you’ll

be on your own for round one tomorrow. How do you like that?”

“I think that’ll work fine for me.” Carmilla pulled her leather jacket tighter around her shoulders, gave Danny the finger, smirked, and walked out.


	3. Bootcamp Day 3

**Bootcamp: Day 3**

Laura wass sitting indian style in the hallway, preparing to go into the room and sing for the judges. Today was first round of cuts; everyone would be required to sing something--not just in front of the judges, but in front of _everyone_. All of her competitors. She wants to be the one to beat, but she’s not sure that’s going to happen. Especially since instead of getting to practice with LaFontaine, she ended up breaking one of their guitars and spending the rest of her night in her room.

But that was the past. Now she needed to _focus_ for once in her life. So she tried to meditate, taking deep breathes to calm herself down. She got there earlier than everyone else to ensure a little peace and quiet. After a while Laura could feel her heart rate slowing down, and she started to think that maybe this won’t be awful--

“So buttercup, I heard you smashed a guitar. You didn’t strike me as the rock star type.”

\--And Laura’s heart rate jumped right back up. At least this time it was from anger and not nerves. She opened one eye to stare up at Carmilla.

“Can you leave me alone? I’m nervous enough as it is. I didn’t even run into you this time--and who told you that anyway?”

Carmilla shrugged. “That kind of thing tends to get spread around.”

“Oh God, what if  they were complaining about me?” Laura couldn’t help it; all her anxiety came flooding back and she buried her head in her hands. “Oh _man_ , they probably won’t even listen to me sing, I am out, this is a disaster, dad was right, I should have just gone to journalism school--”

“Cut that shit out,” Carmilla snapped, “You’re making _me_ nervous. And unlike you I don’t have to be.”

Laura glared at her. “If I recall, didn’t _you_ flip off Danny Lawrence? ‘Cause everyone was talking about how you were bragging about it last night.”

Carmilla shrugged. “You know what? Yeah. But screw _her_. I don’t need an ‘image readjustment’.” She snapped the leather jacket she wore constantly. Laura briefly wondered if she has one for every day of the week.

“It’s not good to ignore the judges.”

“You see on American Idol all the time, that you need to know who you are as an artist. And then they turn around and say ‘actually, be who we want you to be as an artist’. It’s bullshit. And you--if you are a nerdy dork who plays the ukulele, be that. You won’t win, but at least you’ll have some goddamn self respect--and LaFontaine is rich as Midas. If they kick you off because of one guitar, they aren’t worth your time. Now if you excuse me, I have a competition to win.”

With that she flipped her hair--God, she was such a mean girl--and walked through the double doors. Laura had a feeling that outburst was more about her own feelings about the competition than about encouraging her...but it was strangely comforting? Either way, Laura got up and took a breath. It was time.

* * *

 

Laura chose to walk to the other side of the room, as far away from Carmilla as possible. She didn’t need her negativity. So instead she started tuning her ukulele--not that it needed tuning. But it’s something to do with her hands besides fidgeting.

Everyone started walking into the room a few minutes later, talking to each other in hushed whispers. Laura watched them all curiously, then turned away--and all of a sudden there was a tray shoved under her nose. OH GOD IT SMELLS LIKE CHOCOLATE. OH GOD IT’S BROWNIES.

“Brownie?” Laura followed the arm holding the tray and realized it was that red-haired woman that was on Betty’s team. She grabbed the brownie and smiled.

“Thank you! That’s really nice of you. I’m Laura.”

“It’s so nice to meet you sweetie--call me Perry. I thought these would be a good ice breaker, don’t you think so?”

“Well, you’re kind of my best friends now, so definitely.” Perry laughed.

“That’s good to hear. Are you nervous?”

“Kind of. A little? I don’t know. To be honest I still kind of can’t believe I even made it this far.”

“I’m sure it was because you were talented dear.” Perry said gently, “The important thing is to remember that you deserve to be here, isn’t it? I’m sure you’ll be fine--”

There’s a hush that falls over the already quiet group. Laura and Perry looked and saw that the judges had entered.

“Sit with me?” Laura asks, happy that she at least had one friend here.

“Oh, of course!”

They both took a spot near the right of the room. Laura wrinkled her nose in annoyance when she saw that Carmilla was taking the spot right in front of her. And she’s not even sitting like a normal, polite person--she’s got her legs spread out in front of her like she was the only one in the room. Is it bad to hope her voice cracked really badly or something?

“Okay guys, welcome to the first round of cuts for boot camp. The first round is very simple: you’ll be called up individually to sing something. Afterwards we’ll leave the room and decide who will be going home for the day.” Danny shuffled some papers she had in her hands. “Now, this list is random. In no particular order, the first person going up will be: Lola Perry.”

“Break a leg Perry!” Laura whispered, giving her new friend a pat on the back.

“Thank you--and help yourself to more brownies!” Perry got up, smoothing out the wrinkles in her turtle neck. Laura helped herself to another brownie--they were seriously the best things she’s ever eaten, like, ever.

“Good morning judges!” Perry chirped. She walked briskly to the center of the room, where there was a microphone stand. She took the microphone off the stand and held it in her hands.

“I’ll be doing ‘Fancy’ by Iggy Azalea for you today.”

Laura paused with the brownie at her lips, then shrugged and took a bite. She must be doing a break down or something--

_“First thing’s first I’m the realest!_

_Drop this and let the whole world feel it!_

_And I’m still in the murdah business_

_I can hold you down like I’m givin’ lessons in physics--”_

Laura sputtered as she choked on her brownie. What the hell was happening? Sure, she only knew Perry for ten minutes, but still...she was wearing a bright yellow turtleneck. At the same time, once the initial shock was gone Laura could kind of get into it. She had this interesting way of enunciating the words that makes it feel like she was the one that wrote the song in the first place.

_“I’m so fancy, you already know!_

_I’m in the fast lane, from LA to Tokyo!_

_I’m so fancy, can’t you taste this gold?_

_Remember my name, got to blow!”_

She was doing rapper moves and everything, and Laura isn’t sure if she’s hokey or if she’s awesome and it’s just impossible to reconcile it with...well...the fact that it’s her owning a rap song. When she’s finished the judges are obviously impressed and Betty is beaming like a proud parent.

“Thanks, Perry,” Betty says, “Great job. Okay, next up…”

“Lame,” Carmilla muttered under her breath. “She wouldn’t even use any curse words. I mean, _come on.”_

She shut up fast when Perry sat back down next to the brunette, taking a brownie and nibbling it delicately. “Do you think that was okay?”

“Perry, that was...well, that was an experience. When did you…?”

“Become a rapper? I was always very good at tongue twisters. One day I decided, why not see if it translated to rap? As it turns out it worked.” She shrugged.

Oh God, if that could happen Laura's not sure of anything anymore.

The judges continued down the list. A girl named Elsie did some kind of Miranda Lambert song that’s good. Sarah Jane had a guitar with her and she belted Kelly Clarkson. Natalie did something from some indie band Laura never heard of, but the high note she hit at the end could break glass.

“...Very good. And next...Carmilla Karnstein.” Danny said her name like it was a bad word. Carmilla smirked and picked herself off the floor.

“Good luck,” Laura said, because Carmilla was right in front of her and she tried to be the bigger person.

“Don’t need it.”

Nevermind; Laura sent a silent prayer to whatever deity would listen. _Please let Carmilla crash and burn._

“Can I use the keyboard?” Carmilla asked.

“Go ahead. What’ll you be singing?” Will asked in return.

Carmilla grabbed the little keyboard sitting against the wall and lugged it toward the middle. “I’m going to do my take of ‘Creep’.” She sat at the keyboard, wiggling her fingers experimentally over the keys. Immediately this look came over her; she looked absolutely serene. Like she was being reunited with a part of her own body or something.

“Well, take it away.”

Carmilla nodded and began. But it doesn’t sound like Creep; it’s slower, and jazzy. Carmilla opened her mouth and her low, sultry voice echoed throughout the room.

_“When you were here before_

_couldn’t look you in the eye..._

_you look just like an angel._

_Y_ _our skin makes me cry._

_You float like a feather, in a beautiful world._

_I wish I was special...yes so very special…”_

Her voice gained a slight, growling rasp as she hit the chorus. It almost sounded like a cry of anguish.

_"But I’m a creep,_

_and I’m a weirdo_

_what the hell am I doing here?_

_I_ _don’t belong here…”_

Laura could feel her face flushing as Carmilla sang. Something about it is well...creepy. The way her body moved to the beat of the song as she plays is oddly fluid and captivating. She started doing some runs, and to everyone’s surprise--she could see people sitting up a little straighter--Carmilla started _scatting_ , and finally ended softly.

 _“...And I don’t belong here…”_ She stopped, ending with the plinking of a few more notes. “There you go.”

The whole thing felt weird. It was almost like Laura spied on Carmilla as she played alone in her bedroom.

“That was really good,” Laura whispered when Carmilla walked back, “I never thought of the song that way before, like wow. How did you think of that?”

“It’s called having talent, sweetheart. Maybe you’ll have it one day.”

Laura’s jaw dropped. Perry put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t listen to her sweetie, it’s not worth being angry--”

“Laura Hollis?” LaFontaine called out. Laura scrambled to her feet. She was so angry at Carmilla right now--she had literally never said a single mean thing to her, and she had the nerve to say Laura had no talent--but right now it was time to sing.

“Hi. Today I’m going to be singing--” She stopped. She was going to do an Ed Sheeran song, but now she kind of wanted to make Carmilla mad. “I’m going to be doing ‘Mean’ by Taylor Swift.”

Laura can’t help it; she was super comfortable with the song anyway (because hello Taylor Swift is, like, her spirit animal) plus, she could look at Carmilla when she sings it.

_“You, with your words like knives and swords and weapons that you use against me,_

_You, have knocked me off my feet again got me feelin’ like a nothin’._

_Well you can take me down with just one single blow...but you don’t know what you don’t know.”_

Not that Laura is one to brag, but she felt like she was bringing a _little_ swag when she raked her fingers across the strings and bobbed her head to the chorus.

 _“_ _Someday, I’ll be, livin’ in a big old city and all you’re ever gonna’ be is mean!_

_Someday, I’ll be, big enough so you can’t hit me and all you’re ever gonna be is mean! Why you gotta’ be so mean?”_

Laura looked at her competitor and smirked as she continued, and got to the bridge of the song.

_“And I can see you years from now in a bar, talking over a football game._

_The same loud opinion but nobody’s listening._

_Drunk and droning on about how I can’t sing._

_But all you are is mean._

_All you are is mean._

_And a liar! And pathetic!_

_And alone in life and mean...Why you gotta be so mean?”_

With a final strum Laura grinned and looked at the judges. They were all smiling. They looked amused. Was amused a good thing? It was, right? Well, it wasn’t specifically bad. Laura decided to not dwell on it. She returned back to her spot and smiled innocently at Carmilla when she looked at her.

“Congratulations cupcake,” she said, and Laura is a little surprised--

“You’ve confirmed my suspicions and proved to be _utterly_ predictable.”

Laura grit her teeth, crossed her arms, and looked anywhere but at Carmilla. Oh boy, this rivalry was on.

 


	4. Bootcamp Day 4

Day four was beginning, and Carmilla didn’t want to brag, but _damn_ was she killing this competition.

Okay, so she did want to brag. A lot. Because she succeeded in making all four judges hate her, and she’s so good that they’re _still_ putting her through. And all she needs to do now is get through three more days. Three more days and she’d be going on to the live shows, where she was sure America would be just as impressed.

Hey, if Justin Bieber could get fans with _his_ personality, why should she worry about it?

“Welcome to day four of the competition!” Betty exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly as the contestants all file into the room. She saw that it’s a lot less crowded; they must have cut at least a third of the people from yesterday.

Out of curiosity, she scanned the crowd for a familiar ukulele player...yep, there she was. Eating and talking with the rapper chick.

“Wow, cupcake eating a cupcake,” She said nonchalantly as she walked past her, “How original.”

“It--It is a _muffin_ , thank you very much!” Laura exclaimed indignantly. Carmilla smirked in her direction and Laura, embarrassed, stuffed the rest of it in her mouth as Perry pat her on the shoulder. Boy, she was easy to rile up. Carmilla almost hoped she didn’t get kicked off before the live shows. Almost.

“I’m sure you’re all very exhausted,” Betty continued, “But I hope you also didn’t expect to get any rest, because today is going to be even worse!”

She rolled her eyes, and out of her peripheral vision she saw Laura, clapping her hands excitedly and fangirling with Perry.

“Today, is... _knockouts_.”

“Knockouts work pretty simply,” Will continued, “You’ll be paired up randomly with another contestant, and learn a song we’ve picked. Tomorrow, you’ll be performing it for us and we’ll see who gets to move on.”

“This is considered the hardest part of bootcamp,” LaFontaine interjected, “So don’t screw up. No matter who you get paired up with, make it work.”

“And since you’re all probably nervous as heck, we’ll get right down to it.” Danny finished, holding her clipboard. “So first...Lola Perry, you’ll be working with Wilson Kirsch.”

Carmilla couldn’t help it; she threw her head back and laughed out loud. A country singer and a rapper. Yeah, they aren’t going to be moving on.

“It’s not that bad,” She heard Perry say to Laura, “Gangster grass is a genre. It’ll be fine.” But Carmilla could see her turning white.

Danny glared at the laughing brunette, looked back down at the list, and struggled not to laugh herself.

“...Well Carmilla, if you thought that was funny, you’ll like this. _You’re_ paired with Laura Hollis.”

“WHAT THE HELL?” They both shouted at once, then stared each other down.

“Hey, you heard what LaFontaine said. Make it work.”

Carmilla was in a daze as they listed off the rest of the names; she didn’t even hear them. All she could think is, she’s working with a cupcake. Her. Having to duet with Laura.

Boy, does she feel bad for Laura.

* * *

 

Laura will be positive. She will be positive. For the love of God, she will not panic if it kills her. Then again, if it kills her she’s out of the competition anyway. SO. Don’t die is the most important thing, right? So she could panic a _little_?

They both worked with LaFontaine again, who hasdpicked the song that they’re doing.

“I thought this one was weird enough for Carmilla, and good for you vocally Laura,” they said, “Soles is not a very well known artist. It’s called ‘Love Will Have Its Sacrifices’. So I have the track; give it a listen and we’ll stumble through it.”

Laura found herself tapping her hand on her knee to the beat. It’s a really good song. If her life were a TV show she’d even want it to be the theme song or something.

Carmilla had her eyes closed, as if she was absorbing the song through her skin. Weird. And oddly...no. No, Laura will not even go there.

“Okay, so we should probably work this out. Who wants the first verse?”

Laura’s nerves were telling her to get it out of the way. But wasn’t it good to end the song? Because the person who sings last was the one they remember, right? Then again, that’s assuming she’ll sing better than Carmilla. Because they’ll compare it to her. And as much as she wants to be the one giving Carmilla the finger and telling her she is going _down_ , she is aware of the fact that she is an underdog.

On the other hand, they would be comparing her to Carmilla either way. That was the point of knockouts--

“For Christ’s sake,” Carmilla hissed, “This isn’t rocket science, you look like you’re trying to decipher ancient sumerian. _I’ll_ take the first verse.”

Of course, now Laura had an overwhelming desire, no, _need_ to sing the first verse.

“No way, I want to do it!”

“You didn’t seem so sure thirty seconds ago, cupcake.”

“Well...well your leather jackets are stupid!”

That _kind of_ works, because Carmilla is shocked for a few seconds at the sheer randomness of the outburst. One point for Laura. Okay, maybe half a point.

“...Do not even get me started on your wardrobe, cupcake. I mean, a giraffe shirt?”

“Guys--” LaFontaine says.

“At least it’s not entirely black.”

_“Guys.”_

“Well at least I don’t look like I’m twelve--”

“You know, this sounds a lot like _two people going home tomorrow._ ”

That shut Laura and Carmilla up, and they lookws at LaFontaine.

“...Good. Look guys, I understand that you can’t stand each other. Believe me, I get it. Danny and I aren’t exactly best friends. But at the end of the day, I am choosing a big fat paycheck over arguing with her. Can you guys not kill each other if you remember that it’s what’s standing in the way of a million dollar recording contract?”

Laura and Carmilla glared at each other. “ _...Fine._ ”

“Good. Carmilla is doing the first verse. Laura, there’s that falsetto part that you hear in the background; you know what I’m talking about, right? The ‘ooo-aahh’ sort of sound?”

Laura nodded. 

“Well, do that. I’m going to play the instrumental, and I want you to get through it without killing each other. Got that?”

“Just play the damn song, alright?” Carmilla grumbled.

For the first time in four days, Laura actually agreed with Carmilla. Just a little. Getting yelled at by a judge isn’t fun.

The music started. 

“ _We can live, forever, and suffer_

 _Die as one, together, as lovers…_ ” To Laura’s surprise, she did a little run like the woman on the track. LaFontaine nodded.

“Laura, get ready for your runs.”

Right. That ooo-aahh part.

“ _Ooo-aah, ooo-aah, ooo-_ aaaah--”

Laura slapped a hand over her mouth, embarrassed. Her voice cracked. She had been singing since she was a child, and _now_ is when her voice cracked. In front of a judge. More importantly, in front of the snarkiest human being alive who never hesitated to make fun of Laura every chance she got. Carmilla smirked and opened her mouth before LaFontaine cut her off and told the two of them to try again.

This time Laura sucked in all the air she could, determined not to make the same mistake. She did the falsetto again, no problem. Or at least, her voice doesn’t crack. She would be lying if she said she was totally confident at the moment. Especially with Carmilla right next to her, smelling like smoke and flashing a smirk whenever she caught her biting her lip or twirling a strand of hair nervously. It was like she could smell Laura’s fear.

“Your turn Laura,” she said, “Try not to mess it up too badly.”

Okay, even if Laura was nervous, it doesn’t mean that she needed to give Carmilla the satisfaction of watching her throw the competition. If there’s one thing Laura Hollis learned from her father, it was never to let anyone push her around. And never travel without her bear spray. If Carmilla kept annoying her that one might end up coming in handy too.

She opened her mouth and started to sing her part.

_“Offer up your daughters, your daughters_

_The new moon comes through stone walls to darken lightened rooms.”_

Carmilla, of course, is having no problem with the runs. Laura saw LaFontaine nod their head slightly in approval again, so she started to get a little more into the song when it came to the bridge.

_“There’s no way for you to fight this!_

_No way for you to right this!_

_No way for you to hide from the demon of the--”_

“Cupcake, what the hell are you doing?”

“...Huh? What?”

“You were bouncing around like Perry. That wasn’t even rap.”

“Well...it was kind of rapping, right?”

“Uh, no, seriously, do you know anything about music--”

Laura was about to say something else when LaFontaine cut them both off again.

“Listen, I’ve got Perry and Kirsch waiting to rehearse. If you both want to keep arguing, practice in your rooms. The rest is easy anyway. Just sing the last part at the same time.”

“But LaFontaine--” Laura began.

“Sorry Laura. I’m not kicking you both out, we just ran out of time.”

“Any parting words of wisdom, oh great sensei?” Carmilla asked, sarcasm dripping off every word.

“Honestly? Either of you religious?”

Carmilla shook her head no. Laura shrugged. 

“...Then a prayer circle won’t work, so my advice would be hope for the best.”

Laura walked out with Carmilla, utterly defeated. Perry and Kirsch were outside waiting to go in.

“Hey hotties!” Kirsch waved; Carmilla didn't even try to hide her disdain for him. Even though Laura could tell he meant well, she can’t blame her. Besides the ‘hotties’ thing, all Kirsch did was sing songs about beer and hot women. If he made it through over Perry it’d be a travesty.

“Oh, Laura honey! How did it go?”

Laura stopped in front of her. “Oh, great Perry. I think this is the beginning of a fantastic partnership.”

Perry gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and followed Kirsch into the rehearsal room.

“...Not a terrible use of sarcasm,” Carmilla said, “Maybe a little less eye rolling, don’t want to make it _too_ obvious, but for you I’ll give the attempt a solid seven.”

“Look, I’m sorry, it’s just--”

“What are you sorry for?”

“--You’re right. Nothing. Why is it that every time I talk to you or you talk to me I end up messing up or falling on the ground?”

“Hmmph. Good question. Well, teenagers tend to be hormonal, and when you’re in the presence of an extremely attractive, tall, dark, sexy--”

“Tall?”

“Okay, short, dark, and sexy. Point is, of course you’re getting distracted.” She grins and strides away.

“Well--well--I still think your leather is stupid!” Laura shouts, and then groans. Could there be one time that she wasn’t awkward? Was it too much to ask for one witty comeback?

* * *

 

“You nervous cupcake?” Carmilla asks, watching her shuffling her feet. The anxiety was coming off her in waves as she waited for them both to get called in.

“Uh, no. Cool as a cucumber.” She pulled the snapback she was wearing down lower on her head. “Well, maybe a _little bit_ of sheer terror in the pit of my stomach, but that might be because I mixed grape soda and snickerdoodles this morning at breakfast…”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. “Whatever it is, work through it. I do not want to have to carry you through this performance.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want me to mess up so you can get through.” Laura answered, absent-mindedly picking the strings of her ukulele. Carmilla tilted her head.

“You know, just because I want to beat you doesn’t mean I want you to embarrass yourself.” She says.

Laura, who had been staring at the strings of her instrument, paused and looked at her.

“That’s...surprisingly nice of you. Thank you.”

The group ahead of them opened the door and walked out. Carmilla looked at the now open entrance. “Well, I figure you’ll embarrass yourself even if you do your best, so there’s no harm in hoping for it.”

And before Laura could respond--her face had turned red and Carmilla could hear this hilarious little squeak--she walked into the rehearsal room.

“No time to talk cutie, it’s show time.”


	5. The Peformance

Oh boy. It’s show time. Don’t be nervous, don’t be nervous, don’t be nervous, don’t be--

“OOF!”

“Cupcake, watch where you’re going!” Laura was so deep in her own head she hadn’t even realized that Carmilla stopped in the middle of the room, facing the judges’ table. She bumped into her and made her stumble a little.

“Sorry!” Laura squeaked, and she put her attention on the judges. They looked amused. Which is better than annoyed, Laura guessed.

“Uh...hi, guys. I’m Laura, and this is Carmilla, but you probably knew that--”

“Keep the intro short, kid.” Carmilla said.

Kid? Kid? Laura is a year older than her!

“We think you’ll like our song.” Laura finished. Two can play at that game. Laura looked at Carmilla and nudged her with the side of her ukulele.

“Well, Carmilla, aren’t you going to say hi? Don’t be rude.”

“....Hello.” Carmilla said, lifting her hand and lowering it.

“Can you try and say it without sounding totally grumpy?”

Danny Lawrence covered her mouth to hide her snicker. Laura could feel herself relax.

“Fine,” Carmilla answered, “If it means getting this over with. Thanks for listening to our audition or whatever. Even though it’s your job.”

Laura decided she had to pick her battles. At least Carmilla only grumbled that last part under her breath.

Okay. Carmilla raised her eyebrows when the track started, taking the microphone off its stand and raising it to her lips.

_“We can live, forever, and suffer._

_Die as one, together, as lovers.”_

She took a deep breath as Carmilla began to riff. _If my voice does not crack, I will convert to the religion of whichever God granted this request,_  Laura thought in a silent prayer, before she began her runs.

_“Ooo-aah, ooo-aah, ooo-aaaah…”_

And when Carmilla continued singing while Laura did those runs, Laura could breathe a little easier when the judges began nodding along.

_“Love will be cruel to who it entices._

_Love will have its, have its sacrifices.”_

But this was a singing battle, it’s not like they were going to be going into the competition as a group, so when it’s time for her to sing, she gripped the microphone tightly in her hands.

Laura felt really good about getting those runs right, though, and so she risked giving Carmilla a little grin right before she started singing. Just to show she wasn’t scared.

_“Offer up your daughters, your daughters._

_The new moon comes through stone walls to darken lightened rooms.”_

Laura actually felt kind of confident. Even at the bridge she didn’t feel like she was doing any ridiculous rap moves. When the song ended Carmilla got so into it that she actually tried to drop the mic.

Laura reached a hand out to catch it. “You can’t just drop microphones, you could’ve broken it!” Danny couldn’t even try and hide her laughter anymore.

Carmilla glared at her. “Thanks, mom.”

“Thanks guys,” Will said, “It’s a tough decision. We’ll let you know who’s through by the end of the day.”

That’s it. The two singers looked at each other and left. As soon as they’re out of the room Carmilla took out a cigarette and lit it.

“You _smoke?”_ Laura gasped.

“Yeah…?”

“But you _sing_ , how can you inhale that?”

“I smoke a cigarette every couple of days. Big fucking deal. Besides, how do you think I got this trademark rasp?”

Laura wrinkled her nose. Wow, she hated her. Wow, she was glad they got through that stupid song.

Seriously, how was it fair that someone so rude still had such a great voice and looked--

“Should probably say, been nice knowing you.” Carmilla said, lips still holding the cigarette. Laura clenched her jaw.

“Yeah. Hope you aren’t too disappointed on the plane ride home.”

Something about her changed. Carmilla took the cigarette from her lips. “Listen, cupcake. I have worked too long and too hard to get to this competition. I can take one look at you and tell that you don’t need this half as much as I do, okay?”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It means Carmilla Karnstein doesn’t get beat by some small-town talent who was the lead in all her school plays, whose mommy and daddy told them how special they were. I had to climb uphill to get here. So, me getting on that plane? No fucking way. Sorry to burst your bubble.” Carmilla put the cigarette back in her mouth, leaning against the wall.

Laura’s hands clenched around the guitar. She disagreed with her premise entirely--she deserved to be here just as much as Carmilla did, Laura didn’t care what the other girl went through--but most of what she said about being a small town girl was pretty much correct.

So, Laura went with the only thing that she got wrong. Laura reached out and deftly plucked the cigarette from her lips.

“My mom is _dead,_ ” Laura said, and she squashed the cigarette underfoot before going back to the common room to join Perry.

* * *

 

“So it went well then, hon?” Perry asked. 

“Yeah, it actually went pretty great. It’s amazing how well you can harmonize with someone that you can’t stand. You and Kirsch okay?”

“Believe it or not, it went _very_ well.”

Laura took another bite of Perry’s cookies--Laura still didn’t know where Perry found time to bake, but she wasn’t going to question it--and nodded. “Wow. Really? You found a way to make rap country work?”

“You better believe it, hotties!”

Laura’s shoulders tensed when the tall, gangly boy walked up behind Perry and put two hands on her shoulders. “She’s a boss. Seriously! She had such a cool idea for a song too!”

“What was the song?”

“It was by GANGSTAGRASS.” Perry said, “Kirsch?”

Kirsch swung his guitar around and began playing the cords, and Perry looked at him as they began rapping:

_“On this lonely road, tryin’ to make it home, doin’ it by my lonesome ticked-off, who wants some. I’m fighting for my soul, go get at your boy, you try to bogart--fall back, I go hard!”_

They both stopped and began laughing.

“Well, at least one of us got along with our partner.”

“Who was your partner? That really dark, punk hottie?”

“Uh...yes. Carmilla.”

“Oh. Yeah, I see what you mean. I offered to buy her dinner once. She bit me.”

“She _bit_ you?”

Kirsch shrugged, “‘Course, my girlfriend is in the competition too, so I wasn’t even trying to hit on her. She was just the only one not eating. So the joke was on her, I guess.”

Maybe she had been a little too quick to judge Kirsch. ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’ right?

“Still though, why would she bite you, of all things?”

“It was less a bite, and more...threatening to bite. She kind of snapped at me and I had to jump back.”

“Either way, she’s evil,” Laura answered, but it seemed that Kirsch already was preoccupied on something else, because he walked away. A shiny object, probably.

 _Oh God, Carmilla’s snark is starting to rub off on me._ Laura shook her head. A few minutes of making small talk with Perry later and it’s the moment of truth. The judges walk in.

“Before we start, we wanted to say that this was a tough decision,” Will said, “You should all be proud.”

“Unless you’re going home. In that case, work on it.”

“Betty…” Danny warns.

“...And onto the names,” LaFontaine interrupted, taking out a piece of paper from their pocket. “Moving on…”

“Oh my God, Perr, I haven’t heard my name.”

“Relax, dear, they just started.”

“But they’re still going, and I haven’t heard my name!”

“They haven’t said mine--”

“--And between the group of Wilson Kirsch and Lola Perry, both have moved on.”

Kirsch appeared behind Perry, grabbing her in a bear hug. “Knew we’d both make it! Knew it!”

“Good luck Laura!” Perry said in between fits of laughter.

Oh boy. Laura started biting her nails.

“And...Laura Hollis has moved on.”

“YES!”

The judges looked at her, and Laura smiled sheepishly before looking at Carmilla. She’s slouched against the wall. Serves her right!

“Carmilla Karnstein, you’ve moved on as well,” Danny finished begrudgingly, “And that’s the last of the names. Sorry, all who didn’t make it. Come back next year.”

WHAT.

Okay, so Kirsch and Perry moved on together, but it still didn’t occur to Laura that she and Carmilla could both go through.

“Tomorrow will be the last push before we decide who goes on to the live rounds!” Betty said, “This is the moment you’ve all been working toward. One more performance for us, with a full band and everything. You’ll have the rest of the day and tomorrow morning to prepare. Good luck! Yeah, that means you all start right now.”

Everyone stared at them in shock before scrambling up, some to pack their suitcases to go home and others--like Laura--to prepare a song.

“Well, well. It looks like the underdog has slipped through another round,” Carmilla said. Laura turned around and pouted.

“Can you leave me alone for about five minutes?”

“Hey,” Carmilla raised her hands in a mock gesture of surrender, “I was here to congratulate you. And wish you good luck.”

“...Now is when you will make some snarky ‘because you’ll need it’, right?”

She shrugged. “No.”

Oh. “Well...uh, good luck then?”

“Thanks,” Carmilla turned and was about to leave. Huh. Well, maybe that little conversation they had earlier meant that Carmilla would be a little nicer from now on--

“Not that I need it.”

\--Wishful thinking.

 


	6. The End of Bootcamp

Laura shifted uncomfortably in her chair once again and stuffed another whole muffin in her mouth. She was sitting across from Perry in the hotel lobby restaurant. She was giving her “worried mother” eyes and frowning slightly--presumably at the alarming amount of muffins Laura had eaten in the past ten minutes.

“I’m guessing nerves have gotten the better of us this morning?” said Perry as she cut the apple on her plate into fourths.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Honey, you are sweating so much that your hair is starting to stick to your neck and quite frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t popped from the amount of food you have consumed this morning.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m a little nervous about my voice today. I didn’t sleep very well last night because someone was playing music really loud all night and then when I finally did get to sleep, I had a nightmare.” It wasn’t even good music. Who listens to heavy metal at three AM? Laura’s convinced it was to annoy her. Perry’s eyes grew wide as she looked past Laura and averted her gaze down to her plate.

“Trouble in paradise, Cupcake?”

The raspy voice at her ear was familiar, and Laura immediately cringed, knowing that Carmilla probably heard that entire exchange. She turned around to find Carmilla grinning with her arms crossed.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘trouble’ and I wouldn’t exactly call this ‘paradise’. _You're_ here, after all.” Laura snapped back.

Carmilla made a dramatic show of clutching her chest. “Ouch. This cutie has claws.”

Laura huffed and pouted.

“Better claws than fangs. At least I have the decency to clean myself up.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. You smell like...like...the floor of a bondage club!” Laura honestly had _no idea_ where that came from, and Perry looked _horrified._

“Laura, where did you learn that?”

Carmilla scoffed at Laura’s comment and her obvious innocence.

“Like you would know what that smells like.”

“For your information, I do. Well, I have been told… I can imagine that it sme-”

“That’s what I thought.” Carmilla said, grabbing an uneaten muffin off the table and walking away with a smug look.

Laura was furious. Like Remus Lupin on a werewolf rampage, furious. Her face bunched up and her mouth curled into a scowl at the thought of letting Carmilla get into her head.

“Thanks for having breakfast with me, Perry, but I think I’m going to go practice a few more times before the show.”

“Okay, dear.” Perry said absentmindedly as she chewed on a piece of her apple.

Laura grabbed her last muffin and stormed off in the direction of the elevators for a last minute jam session.

* * *

 

Pacing. She was pacing. Her confidence levels had sunk to an all time low and _now_ was the moment her brain chose to panic. Thoughts of tripping, her voice cracking, and fumbling for chords were clouding her mind as she walked back and forth in the hall outside of the auditorium.

Running through the motions in her head, Laura ghosted the chords on the neck of the ukulele one more time. She found that sometimes it was easier to concentrate on the movement of her fingers and where they were being placed than on the upcoming performance. Anxiety was a beast that Laura was all too familiar with, and she had learned to control almost perfectly.

“Laura Hollis? You’re up.” said the man standing by the stage.

 _Almost_ being the keyword.

Laura stepped up on stage and tightened her grip on the neck of her tiny instrument. The lights seemed too bright and the air too cold. She had never felt this way before on stage, but today seemed more stressful.

She pulled down the microphone to her height and scanned the judges’ faces.

“Good Morning, Laura. What will you be singing for us today?” LaF asked with a smile.

 _“Pompeii_ by Bastille” Laura responded, with a slight tremor to her voice.

“Go ahead then.”

Laura took a deep breath and started to strum.

_“I was left to my own devices_

_Many days fell away with nothing to show_

_And the walls kept tumbling down_

_In the city that we love_

_Great clouds roll over the hills_

_Bringing darkness from above_

_She looked straight at the judge’s faces as she continued, gaining confidence._

_“But if you close your eyes_

_Does it almost feel like_

_Nothing changed at all?_

_And if you close your eyes_

_Does it almost feel like_

_You've been here before?_

_How am I gonna be an optimist about this?_

_How am I gonna be an optimist about this?”_

Slowly strumming out the last chords, Laura sang out the last line with all the courage her little body could muster.

_“If you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?”_

“Thank you.” Betty said, scribbling notes on the score sheet in front of her.

Laura nodded and walked off the stage with her heart in her throat. That performance wasn’t her best. That performance could get her kicked off the show. The anxiety and pressure was getting to her, forcing her heart rate to spike at the slightest thought of failure.

She rounded the corner to the backstage area, fiddling with her ukulele strings, to find Carmilla waiting her turn.

“Not your best, sweetheart. Mediocre, at best. Did that nightmare get the best of you?” Carmilla said. 

“Oh please. I can’t wait to see the scorch marks on those leather pants of yours when my ‘mediocre’ performance blows yours out of the water.”

“That's quite the accusation there. I guess we'll see about that.” Carmilla gazed towards the same man by the stage.

“C. Karnstein. You’re up.”

Smiling wickedly back at Laura, Carmilla sauntered onto the stage.

“Morning. What will you be singing for us today, Miss Karnstein?” Will said without gazing up from his paper.

 _“Take Me To Church_ by Hozier”

“Proceed.”

Carmilla grabs the mic and brushes her lips up against it as she starts singing.

_“My lover's got humour_

_She's the giggle at a funeral_

_Knows everybody's disapproval_

_I should've worshipped her sooner.”_

Her hand slid down the microphone pole as her raspy voice led eager, awaiting ears to the chorus.

_“I was born sick, but I love it_

_Command me to be well_

_Amen. Amen. Amen."_

Carmilla belted the chorus.

_"Take me to church_

_I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies_

_I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife_

_Offer me that deathless death_

_Good God, let me give you my life.”_

The song was near flawless and Laura knew that her ‘mediocre’ performance did nothing to those leather pants. Tucking her chin to her chest, she turned her back to the stage as Carmilla finished her song and came strutting past Laura without saying a word.

“Well, that went well.” Laura said sarcastically. She finds Perry waiting in the hallway.

“Laura, sweetie, don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. You are your own worst critic, after all.”

“I know. It’s just that Carmilla was so confident and her performance was fantastic. I feel like I looked like a toddler throwing a fit on stage compared to her.” Laura frowned, and her shoulders sagged as she picked at her nails.

“Laura, dear, picking your nails like that is unsanitary. Calm down.” Perry said as she rubbed Laura’s back and grabbed her hands, forcing her to stop.

“Sorry, Perry. It's just, my nerves are a little rattled. That was the last song before the live shows and if I don’t make it through and ‘angry, dark, and broody’ does? I just...”

“You have talked about her all day and it seems like the little green monster is rearing its ugly head. Here, have a brownie.” Perry smiles and whips out a box of brownies to offer to Laura and curiosity gets the better of her. Besides, anything was better than thinking about this...

“Hey Perry, where do you find the time to bake all of these brownies? And how’d they get so good? Like, wow.”

“When you grow up with as many brothers and sisters as I did, sweetie, you learn to bake fast and make it good.”

Laura took a brownie from Perry’s box and started pacing up and down the hallway. She would never admit it, but she almost felt more comfortable when Carmilla was her ‘partner’ of sorts. It made her feel like she had someone to lean on if things went awry--other than the fact that she couldn’t stand her, Laura had to admit that they didn’t make a terrible team. But that soon went away when Danny came outside and called them back into the auditorium.

This was it. The moment that she knew would make or break her career (more or less). Danny scanned the crowd and came to a stop at the front of the stage, counting heads.

“Welcome to the final round of eliminations from your first week! You all have spent this past week singing your hearts out and battling against each other for a chance to taste the rush of the live shows. So without further ado, here we go.”

Waiting and listening. That’s all Laura did for the next fifteen minutes as Danny called out the names of the contestants staying. Praying to a god she wasn’t sure was even real, she hoped she would hear her name come from the tall redhead’s lips. Everyone around her seemed to be doing the same. They all looked as if they could puke on the spot. Carmilla, of course, was the exception to this rule. She looked as if she wouldn’t care even if Danny suddenly turned into a werewolf and galloped off into the distance. Yet, Laura noticed that they hadn’t called Carmilla’s name either, and they seemed to be getting dangerously close to the end of that list.

“---Lola Perry, and last but not least, Wilson Kirsch.” Danny rolled up the list and stuffed it in her back pocket.

“As for everyone else, I’m sorry to say that you will not be seeing the live shows this year. Please come back next year and try again.” She smiled as she dismissed the crowd in front of her.

Laura’s throat burned and her eyes welled up with tears that she fought to keep from bleeding out onto her cheeks. She turned quickly on her heels and hid her face from the view of Perry as she sped out the open door.

“Laura, wait!” she heard Perry call out frantically.

She kept walking, pushing forward with every step and wiping the now free falling tears from her chin as they sped towards the ground. The sun was beating down on the back of her neck and made the swift walk she had tried to keep up slow to a snail’s crawl. All she wanted was to get back to her hotel room and cry into the pillow until the time came to pack her things.

She pushed the up button to the elevator and watched through swollen puffy eyes as several business men stepped out of the opening doors. Sliding in and pushing the button for her floor, she slid to the back of the elevator. She let herself cry again before running to her room.

She had three more hours and the taxi would be here to whisk her away to her flight back home. Flopping on her bed, next to her now fully packed suitcase, she turned on the TV to drown out the music blaring from the adjoining wall. News channel after news channel, she flipped through until she found a cartoon that looked mildly entertaining and settled down to watch when her phone buzzed.

“Hello?” Laura said, half expecting it to be her father asking when her flight was going to take off today. She had told him the bad news earlier, but didn’t tell him the details of her flight in her bleary eyed sadness.

“Miss Hollis? This is Sam, the secretary to the producer of X-Factor, we need to speak with you before your flight. Could you make it down here in the next thirty minutes?”

“Um, sure. Be there in a minute.” Laura hung up the phone and grabbed her keycard off the end table, running out the door.

She had managed to sound nonchalant on the phone, but frankly? She was anything but. Visions of the judges sitting around a table, realizing they had made a huge mistake, and preparing to beg Laura to come back filled her mind.

Or, she could have forgotten her wallet or something.

Either way, at least she wasn’t going home yet, right?

* * *

 

As she opened the doors to the auditorium, Laura noticed that LaF was talking to someone just out of view. They seemed to be slightly frustrated with whomever they were speaking to, and they turned their head just in time to catch Laura’s mouth drop open at the site of Carmilla standing by them.

“Laura, nice to see you. Now, I know it might be a bit of a shock that we called you back here and that Carmilla is here but--”

Carmilla interjected.

“But, they seem to think that pairing us as a group would save their butts in the long run. So welcome back to the show... partner.”

Carmilla’s face scrunched up and she rolled her eyes at the word ‘partner’.

“Wait, so I’m back on the show? I’m not going home?” Laura said to Lafontaine.

“Nope. You and Carmilla are now a group and we hope that you will agree to that arrangement..."

No, no, no, a thousand times no, not in a million--

“because it’s kind of your only choice.” LaF said.

\--Yeah, sure, why not, how bad could it be, really?

“YES...I mean, um… yeah. Totally agree.”

Laura looked pleased and turned to stare at Carmilla, awaiting an answer.

“If I must...”


	7. Getting To Know You

Laura was absolutely convinced that Carmilla choosing to blast ‘Fuck You’ all night in her hotel room was intentional. Fine. The next morning when she met Carmilla in the hotel restaurant, she made a point to hum One Direction songs as she ate. She doesn’t actually know if Carmilla dislikes One Direction but, knowing her personality, it’s an educated guess. A totally correct educated guess.

“...Can you stop the idiotic humming?” Carmilla snapped.

“Hey, remember what LaFontaine said,” Laura answered, pouring syrup on her pancakes, “We have to try and get along today. And come up with a group name.”

Well, their exact words were,  _‘please,_  prove to us that you can survive for an entire day without attempting to murder each other. And maybe come up with a name for your duo. But focus on the surviving.’

“How about ‘Doomed to Failure,’” Carmilla answered.

“Uh, that feels a little too heavy metal for the type of music we--”

Laura took notice of Carmilla’s droll expression.

“--You know what, I do not understand your problem. I’m trying to make the best of this whole thing. Why can’t you at least _try_  and be a decent human being, for once?”

Carmilla put down her fork and glared at her.

“I will tell you my problem. My problem is that I gave a fantastic final performance, and yours was anything but, and instead of putting me through like I  _deserved,_  they forced me to work with you. Which I still do not get, by the way. My disdain for you has been pretty obvious.”

“So has mine! Maybe it’s good television or something…”

The fact was, Laura needed Carmilla if she wanted any chance of winning. She couldn’t even  _compete_  without Carmilla now. And this isn’t a permanent partnership, is it? Once Laura and Carmilla won, Laura had to record an album with her, and then they never had to see each other again.

It’s like LaFontaine said. Right now it’s about survival.

“Look, Carmilla, do you think I wanted to work with you? I don’t. But the fact is that we are a group now, and the judges said we need to learn to at least not want to kill each other every time we speak.”

“So, what do you propose, cupcake?”

“Um...why don’t we just, like, hang out for the day? We have a free day. We can go into the city and...you know, I don’t know, just get to know each other.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a date.”

Laura looked repulsed at the mere suggestion.

“Good, I can tell from your reaction that it’s not. Hmm. Well, it’s an excuse to go into the city. One condition, though.”

“What?”

“I plan everything.”

“But--”

Carmilla got up from her table. “I see you are still in your pajamas--seriously, you go out in public wearing those clothes--meet me outside in two hours dressed and ready to go.”

“Wait, aren’t you going to pay for--”

She was already gone. Laura looked at her plate of  _very_ expensive breakfast food that she was apparently paying for now.

Laura sighed.

* * *

 

Laura slipped on her favorite flannel and skinny jeans, walking outside and seeing that Carmilla was already waiting for her.

On a motorcycle.

“You ready, cupcake?”

“Uh...Carmilla, are we seriously riding…?”

Carmilla raises an eyebrow. “What? Too  _scared?”_

“No!” Laura exclaimed, “Let’s go! I was asking because I was excited! Where are we going first?”

She hopped on the back.

“Well, since I am unfortunately forced to talk to you for the next few months, I thought we should include at least one really stupid thing you would probably like doing.”

“...Gee, thanks.”

“Then I thought, screw that, I’m doing something I like. So, we’re going to a used bookstore.”

Seriously, what was it with Carmilla saying something semi-decent and then turning around and making it bitchy? On the other hand…

“That actually doesn’t sound totally awful.”

“Let’s get it over with, then.”

As she revved up, Laura realized something. “Carmilla, aren’t we going to put on our helmets?”

Carmilla looked at her. “Who said anything about helmets?”

“Carmilla,  _wait,_  I’m  _not_ comfortable with--WHAT THE FRILLY HELL!”

Carmilla was evil. She was seriously evil and Laura hated her. Her eyes were shut tight, and she didn’t even know where they’re going; all she’s really sure of is that it feels like they’re going way too fast. And did they ever stop? No, she doesn’t think so, oh God, Carmilla is  _skipping stop signs and red lights, isn’t she._

“...Okay, cupcake, you can open your eyes now.”

She opened them. “I almost hope you only drove like that to mess with me, because seriously, otherwise you’re going to kill yourself pretty soon.”

“Got to live on the edge a little, cutie.” She flashed a wicked grin. “Remember what the judges said?”

Laura groaned. Apparently, according to Danny’s explanation to them last night, the judges felt that Carmilla would ‘give Laura a competitive edge to her performances’ and Laura would ‘counteract Carmilla’s super bitchiness’.

Not to be ungrateful, but Laura felt her job was a lot harder. But whatever.

As she got off the motorcycle she saw the sign on the very small, square building:  _‘The Book Nook’._

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Okay. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad? Laura loved reading.

“Man, this place is dusty,” Laura said as she stepped inside and wrinkled her nose. “No offense, but I prefer Barnes and Noble.”

“That is because you do not appreciate the charm of old, used books.” Carmilla said. She reached to a shelf; her fingers skimmed across the spines of several books before pulling out a copy of  _The Picture of Dorian Gray_. “I also highly doubt that you appreciate the charm of classic literature, either.”

“That is not true!” Laura answered indignantly, searching the shelves as she spoke, “My favorite book is  _Frankenstein_.”

“Then why don’t you show me the book you grabbed off the shelf?”

Laura hugged it closer to her chest for a moment, before acquiescing and showing her.

“...For the record, I was only interested because this copy is  _The_  Philosopher’s  _Stone_ and not  _The_  Sorcerer’s  _Stone.”_

“My God, you are hitting every dork talking point.”  

“What about you? I saw that copy of  _Dracula_  you picked up! Of course the goth girl is into vampires.”

“Nice try, cutie, but personally I think that’s a bit of a reach.”

“You...seriously...ugh!”

Carmilla put the books back on the shelf. “Okay, clearly this isn’t helping us ‘bond’ or whatever. I suggest we go eat. At least that is an activity that prevents us from having to speak.”

“Sure.”

Which meant another trip on the motorcycle. Great. Laura dares to open her eyes this time around and--yep, she runs through the stop signs.

Laura shut them again.

“...We’re here.”

It’s a diner. A nice looking diner. Okay. Carmilla sat down unceremoniously at one of the outdoor tables. Laura sat down and eyed her suspiciously.

“I’ve come here before. It’s got good food.” Carmilla said.

The waiter came. Before Laura could take a menu from him, Carmilla held up a hand. “We don’t need menus. We’ll have the Joey’s Favorite.”

“Carmilla, I kind of wanted--”

“Just trust me. It’s good.”

And Laura didn’t fight her because, logically, if Carmilla was eating the same thing, she wouldn’t order something gross.

Oh, how wrong Laura was.

“What is  _this?”_

“Blood pudding. Also called blood sausage, or black pudding.”

“Bl...blood?”

“Thickened with oats, generally.”

Whoever Joey was, he had pretty sick taste.

“Let me get this straight. You enjoy eating blood pudding, but what I said about Dracula when we were in the bookstore was ‘a reach’?”

Carmilla was already finishing off her plate. She looked at Laura and shrugged. “Hey, if you won’t even try it, I’ll eat it.”

Laura pushed her plate toward Carmilla with a look of disgust. In a few bites Carmilla finished her food.

“...Wow, and Perry thinks I scarf down food,” Laura mumbled. 

“What was that, cupcake?”

“Nothing. Just mulling over the fact that you have two strikes against you.”

“Not my fault you aren’t willing to try new things.”

“That wasn’t ‘new’. I have unfortunately tasted blood, and I have tasted oatmeal. Not a fan of either.”

“Whatever,” Carmilla gots up, throwing some dollar bills onto the table. “Do you want to keep going, or not?”

“No. I kind of want to go back to the hotel.”

Carmilla stared at Laura, crossing her arms. “That’s fine. But I  _would_  like to point out that you will need to ride with me to get back to the hotel...whereas our next destination is within walking distance.”

Laura had to admit, Carmilla had this amazing quality to convince someone to do things they one hundred percent did not want to do. “...Fine. Anything to keep me off that death trap for a little longer.”

“Good. Because the building is,” Carmilla pointed, “right over there.”

It’s a dive bar. There’s a couple of letters missing from the sign, but if Laura had to guess it’s called  _The Iron Needle._

“I’m not really a drinker. It being illegal and all?"

“Relax. We’re not going in there to drink,” Laura doesn’t realize that Carmilla had taken her hand until she’s being dragged through the door, “We’re here to play pool.”

Pool. Laura played a few times, with her dad. She was not very good. But, it’s about having fun, right? Plus, that was years ago. Maybe she’ll be better now.

“You going to stare at the table, Laura, or are you going to pick up a cue?”

“Oh! Right.” She picked up the cue. It looks to be about half her height and she awkwardly tries to sink one of the striped ones. It doesn’t go well. Carmilla laughed at every missed attempt.

“Don’t look now, Laura, but I see those guys eyeing you.”

Yeah, and they’re walking over now. Laura straightened up.

“Um...hi…”

They are very large, very...leathery, she guessed...and, not to body shame, but Laura wondered why anyone would be willing to get that many tattoos. The fatter of the two took a cigarette from his lips.

“Hey, you want to play a game?”

Laura noticed Carmilla edging closer behind her.

“Sure! My friend and I would love to!”

His friend--the hairier one--grinned. “Great. Want to make it interesting? Say, fifty bucks?”

She had fifty bucks still in her wallet. “Why not?”

“Laura, are you sure we have enough time?” Carmilla hissed.

“Of course, Carmilla, don’t be rude. Or, at least not ruder than normal.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes, but grabbed the cue. “Alright. Fine. I tried.”

She took the first shot; a striped ball is sinked. Fat guy took a shot and missed.

Laura hunched down, and concentrated. Focus. FOCUS.

Wow, that actually worked. Laura sunk one into the right corner pocket.

“Yes! Man, what a lucky shot!” She raised her hand to Carmilla, who glared at her until she lowered it.

Hairy guy sunk one in. Carmilla missed. But Laura sunk herd,  _again._ She couldn’t believe her luck. Maybe it was nerves. Maybe she’s just using the right form now. Whatever the reason, she didn’t miss a single shot the rest of the game.

She also didn’t notice Hairy and Fatty getting increasingly irritable. Or Carmilla looking increasingly uncomfortable.

“Oh, look! Only one more ball and Carmilla and I win. Will I sink it…? Well, what do you know, I did!” She straightened up. Started doing the running man for a minute to celebrate, before turning to her opponents. “Great game, guys, now pay up!”

“Hey, Spike, you got money?” The fat one asks.

“No, Skull, I don’t think I do.”

Carmilla was trying to forcibly drag Laura out, now. Laura shrugged her away.

“Hey, we won fair and square!” She answered, “Give us our money!”

“It’s not fair when you hustle us!” Skull growled. “In fact, I think you owe us money.”

“And if you don’t want to give it to us, we’ll take it.”

“Carmilla, you know the seedy underworld of dive bars better than me, I’m sure,” Laura whispered, “How serious are they right now…?”

Carmilla looked at her. “Calm answer or realistic?”

“Whichever one you think is best?”

“RUN!”

She grabbed her and they both dived through the doors; Spike and Skull were, obviously, not very happy with the turn of events. Laura once again had to give this to Carmilla. Of all the things she was expecting out of today, getting chased out of a bar by bikers after (accidentally) hustling them in pool was not one of them.

Laura got on the motorcycle first in her adrenaline fueled haste, Carmilla following close behind.

“We don’t have time to switch seats, just hit the gas and go!”

“But I don’t know how--”

“Seriously, you’re arguing with me right now? Drive!”

Point taken. Laura hit the gas. The motorcycle lurched forward.

“Carmilla? Are they following us?”

She looked back. “I don’t know. Nope. They’re catching their breath. Looks like they’re cursing at us.”

“...Then can I stop and yell at you, because this was literally the worst day of my life?”

“Should probably wait until we get back to the hotel for that.”

* * *

 

The most surprising thing about the entire day, more than Carmilla’s love of classic literature, or the blood sausage, or almost getting killed by bikers, was that it all happened before five PM.

“It’s only four. How is it only four?”

Carmilla walked past Laura, bumping her in the shoulder as she moved through the revolving doors that led into the hotel lobby. “Time flies when you’re having fun?”

“But time _didn’t_ fly if we got back early.”

“Exactly.”

For once, Carmilla said something that Laura could agree with. “...Wait. Oh man, LaFontaine told us to come up with a group name. We didn’t even talk about it!”

Carmilla turned around to face her, still walking backwards. “What’s your last name again?”

“Hollis, why?”

Carmilla turned back around right before she would have bumped into LaFontaine.

“Hey, ladies. What happened to you both? You look like you did some running--”

“Hollstein.”

“Huh?”

“Our group name is Hollstein.”

LaFontaine gave them both an odd look, tilting their head. “Okay. I guess I did say you could pick whatever name you want.”

Laura caught up to Carmilla. “Why Hollstein?”

“Hollis and Karnstein. Would you have preferred Kollis? Or Harnstein? Karnis?”

“...Point taken.”


	8. Bit of a Shaky Start

“Are you serious?” Laura heard the grumbled moan of her singing partner come from behind the hotel door. Laura banged her fist on the door again for good measure, jumping back when the door swung open to reveal a very tired and disheveled looking Carmilla.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Laura exclaimed as she let herself into Carmilla’s room and plopped herself into the chair in the corner with a smile.

“Why exactly are you here? It’s nine AM. No one wakes up before noon.”

“Because we have work to do, and the early bird gets the worm. So if you don’t mind--not that I’m giving you a choice--we are choosing a song today. Now, sit down.”

Laura patted the side of the bed in front of her and Carmilla listened for once, albeit unhappily, dragging her feet the entire way.

“You know, Cupcake, I’m not much of a morning person, but since you seem hellbent on disrupting my sleeping pattern today, I guess I have no choice. If this becomes a habit, I might start expecting coffee from you.”

Carmilla laid down sideways on the bed; feet dangling in front of Laura’s face. Laura

considered swatting at them, but thought better of it.

“Yeah, like that is going to happen. I barely want to spend time with you as it is. I would rather eat an _entire_ plate of vegetables than spend every morning with you.”

“But I love hanging out with Lauronica Mars.” Carmilla said, jokingly grabbing her chest and pouting out her bottom lip.

_Just one little swat..._

“Uh, yeah… anyway, since this week is British Invasion week, I was doing some thinking and--”

“You? Thinking? This should be good.” Carmilla mumbled.

Laura ignored her and continued.

“--I was thinking maybe we could do a song by this really good group I know of?”

“Define ‘good’.” Carmilla answered, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Here let me, uh, play it for you.”

Laura stumbled up out of the chair and dug in her pocket for her phone. Looking up at the grumpy brunette through her lashes, Laura flipped to the O section of her music library and hesitantly pressed play.

Carmilla, hair fanned out like peacock feathers on the bed, bolted upright as soon as the words started.

“NO. NO NO NO. NEVER. If you think I’m doing one of those idiotic songs, you are sadly mistaken.”

“Idiotic? It’s a great song! Don’t be so quick to judge! You’re just saying that because it’s One Direction.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes.

“Cupcake, I’m saying that because you are so terribly uncultured that _swine_ would turn their nose up at you.”

 _“Fine_ then, do you have any better ideas?” Laura said, pausing the song on her phone.

“Actually...”

Carmilla stood up and sauntered over to the end of the bed. Squatting down and laying on her belly, she pulled out a briefcase sized little black box and a very full bag.

Her hands clasped the corners and slid down the length of the box like she was pondering on whether to open it. Setting it on the bed, she popped the clasps and pulled open the top to reveal a turntable and needle. It was a record player. Carmilla owned a record player. Of course she did.

Laura gave the brunette a look of confusion as she pulled out several records from the crumpled bag and after careful consideration, placed one on the player. The needle glided over the record creating a loud crackling noise before music filled the air and _Please Please Me_ by The Beatles invaded Laura’s ears.

“You would.” Laura said in a slightly raised voice as to be heard over the music.

“Well if we are going to do British Invasion week right, The Beatles is the way to go. Not ‘No Direction’.” Carmilla said.

Carmilla actually used air quotes for that, only angering Laura further. Standing up and stomping her way to the edge of the bed, the tiny ball of rage slammed the lid of the player closed, effectively stopping the music.

“Yeah. I still like One Direction better.” Laura quipped.

She stormed back to her seat, feeling very offended that someone could be so against her favorite band and was determined to make Carmilla see the error of her ways.

Carmilla had other ideas though.

* * *

 

“So you aren’t going to talk to me?” Laura asked as Carmilla quickly turned her back on her again. In the past hour, there had been complete silence from the brunette. The back of Carmilla’s hair and slight flashes of her profile as Carmilla spun from view were all Laura had seen.

Laura was beginning to think they would never pick a song. The show was in three hours and they still needed to practice, but Carmilla seemed to think this was a game.

“I just, I don’t understand why we can’t do a One Direction song! The Beatles were great, yes. But don’t you think they are a little, oh I don’t know, outdated? I mean, we could definitely do better. And by better, I mean Louis, Niall, Harry, Liam, and Zayn. Well, maybe not Zayn anymore, but... “ Laura sighed at the thought of Zayn leaving and then quickly returned to the back of Carmilla’s head.

 _“Hello?_ Carmilla, we have three hours and all you have done is ignore me! You are just, you’re so...infuriating!” Laura bent and contorted her fingers, making an exasperated motion with her hands.

Hair whipped and a whooshing noise rung in Laura’s ears as Carmilla spun on her heels, coming face to face with her partner once again.

“You know, you wouldn’t know real music if God personally picked your CD collection! You seriously think that the judges are going to take us seriously if we get up on stage and prance around singing a cover of a prissy little boy band?” Carmilla snapped.

“Prissy little boy band? Then what were the Beatles? Oh right! A boy band! Why do you think all those screaming girls were going crazy?”

“Yeah. The Beatles were a boy band and I killed Elvis Presley.”

“Okay...a band that originated in Britain made the move to America and was incredibly successful. Most of their fans were teenage girls. Am I talking about the Beatles or One Direction? Huh? _Huh?”_

Carmilla blew a strand of hair out her eyes and crossed her arms. “Sure…and which one actually wrote their own songs? You are such a naive and provincial girl.”

“Whatever. At least I know good music.”

Carmilla flopped back on the bed with a huff. She splayed out, pulling a very large body pillow over her face and held it down.

“So now you are trying to suffocate yourself?” Laura asked.

“If that means you will go away? Yes.”

Carmilla’s words were muffled and could barely be heard, but Laura just made them out.

“I’m not leaving until we figure out a song. We now have two hours until showtime and we might be able to run through it once if we pick one now.”

“... Fine..” Carmilla threw the pillow aside and sat up. “Hit me with your best shot, Cupcake.”

* * *

 

One run through. That is all the pair had time for before they were running to side stage with their instruments dangling off their backs and mics grasped firmly in sweaty hands.

When they finally arrived, JP was standing in front of the stairs. He looked stern and irritated, as he had obviously been waiting for them to show up.

“You two ready?” JP asked.

The stage was empty and there was definitely an audience tonight as Laura could hear the loud chatter of several hundred voices coming from the auditorium seats just out of her view.

JP’s eyes flicked between Carmilla and Laura still awaiting an answer. Laura wanted to speak, but her nerves seemed to be getting the best of her.

“Ready.” Carmilla finally said in a breathy, tired sounding voice.

JP made a gesture with his hand to the man at the sound board and the lights died down instantly, hushing the roar of voices.

Carmilla had walked on first, acoustic guitar in hand. She settled on stage and Laura came to a halt right at her side with a racing heart.  Carmilla had seemed more confident in the performance that was about to happen and Laura begrudgingly let her take the lead on this one.

Laura turned her head to face her partner and nodded at the pair of eyes already staring in the darkness.

Carmilla stood slight left of center stage. She pulled her guitar up to play and her fingers plucked the strings effortlessly. Carmilla played like she knew the song for years, making Laura even more nervous. Tentatively and with fumbling hands, Laura grabbed the microphone and started singing.

_“Give me love like her,_

_‘Cause lately I’ve been waking up alone,_

_Paint splattered teardrops on my shirt,_

_Told you I’d let them go,”_

_Laura’s voice cracked and she pulled the mic closer._

_“And that I’ll fight my corner,_

_Maybe tonight I’ll call ya,_

_After my blood turns into alcohol,_

_No, I just wanna hold ya…”_

Carmilla chimed in a second too late for the chorus and fumbled a chord, putting Laura slightly ahead as they continued singing together.

_“Give a little time to me or burn this out,_

_We’ll play hide and seek to turn this around,_

_All I want is the taste that your lips allow,”_

Their voices finally synced up and they both belted the last few lines.

_“My, my, my, my oh give me love,_

_My, my, my, my oh give me love,_

_My, my, my, my oh give me love,_

_My, my, my, my oh give me love,_

_My, my, my, my  give me love.”_

They both breathed out and ran off the stage as the awkward silence of the beginning claps began to fill the auditorium. They didn’t even wait for the judge’s comments.

* * *

 

“So that was, uh, quite something.” JP said, shoving the microphone in Laura’s face. A very large camera was pointed towards them and bright lights beamed right in Laura’s teary eyes.

Carmilla grabbed the microphone from JP and swung it up to her own lips.

“Well, Armitage, we didn’t really get much time to practice today. That was only the second time we've played that song together.” She said.

Carmilla always had an air of confidence about her and she was definitely in her element.

“That was a little risky, don’t you think?” JP, once again, shoved the mic up against Laura’s mouth.

“Yes.” Laura squeaked. Her voice was shaky and her entire face was blushing a deep red. She was holding back the flood of tears to no avail, because several were starting to stream down her cheeks. If only this interview would hurry up, she could let the gates open.

Even Carmilla wasn’t _completely_ heartless. “God, Cupcake...it’s not that bad...come on…”

Carmilla patted Laura’s shoulder gently and rubbed down her arm, squeezing slightly. It was all rather awkward and fumbling, since Carmilla wasn’t exactly what one would call affectionate, even to people she actually considered friends. She must have given JP a glare at that moment, because he pulled the mic back up to his lips with noticeable force.

“Thank you, girls. We hope to see you next week.” He said abruptly.

As soon as the cameras shut off, Laura burst into tears, throwing herself on Carmilla and sobbed violently until the next act drowned out her cries.


	9. Time to Talk Strategy

They walked back to the hotel together, Laura not saying a word, neither of them looking at each other. It wasn’t until they hit the hotel lobby that Laura turned on her heels and jabbed a finger in Carmilla’s face.

“This was all  _your_  fault!”

Carmilla ignored her. She pushed past Laura and kept walking to her hotel room, Laura following and still yelling at her while they were in the elevator.

“My voice cracked on  _national television!”_

“That has nothing to do with running the song. That’s just bad singing.” Carmilla muttered.

“Oh,  _really?_  Do you understand what this competition meant to me? And–and you’re just standing there, like you don’t care. Are you really so damaged that you’re incapable of feeling any–”

“I’m  _sorry,_  are you fucking happy?” Carmilla yelled.

The hotel reached their floor, and once again Carmilla pushed past Laura, walking down the hallway. Laura kept following, some of her anger ebbing.

“…Wait, you’re  _really_  sorry?”

Carmilla opened the door to her hotel room; Laura grabbed it, not letting her close it before she slipped inside.

 _“Yes._  That was  _so_   _overwhelmingly_  my fault that I can’t even try to deny it. I fucked up and cost us the competition. Okay?”

She sat down on her bed. Laura should have just left it at that, gone back to her room, and went to pack her suitcase. It was pretty obvious that they were going home. But, for some reason, she stayed.

“…Hey, I don’t  _really_  blame you.” Laura sat next to Carmilla on the bed, leaving space between them.

“Yeah,  _right.”_

“Look, I don’t. You’re right, my voice cracked, and that has nothing to do with running through the song. But, this is just one competition, you know? We can always come back–”

“You don’t  _get it.”_  Carmilla’s head snapped up. Laura was startled when they locked eyes. “This is my chance. This is my  _only chance._  If I go back now…it’s over.”

The way she said it–it scared Laura. She believed it. “Carmilla, why?”

“Whatever. Nothing.”

“Carmilla, I just want to–”

“Just go pack your suitcases and get ready to say hi to daddy, okay?”

“Fine,” Laura snapped. She got up. “I was trying to be nice, but apparently you’re allergic or something.”  

Carmilla stared down at the floor, eyes narrowed so they were mere slits, hands rubbing against her thighs. Laura waited, for just a fraction of a second, waiting for Carmilla to, as always, try and get the last word in. It became clear after a few seconds that Carmilla didn’t seem to realize Laura was even still in the room. She gave up and left.

* * *

 

For elimination: they would call three acts at a time. Two would go to the back and one would be in the bottom three. Usually they tried to pair people that all did equally well, to keep it ambiguous, but it was so obvious who the worst was that Laura and Carmilla stood up next to Kirsch and Perry–arguably the best two acts of the night.

“Wilson Kirsch…you are _safe.”_  JP announced.

Carmilla didn’t understand why he was drawing it out. Or why Kirsch and Perry looked so nervous. There was no way either of them were going home in the first week. Nevertheless, Kirsch fist pumped before running to the lounge to sit with the other contestants.

“Lola Perry…you are safe.”

Perry breathed a sigh of relief. At least she had the decency not to rub it in your faces like Kirsch. She gave Laura a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before walking back.

“Hollstein, I am sorry, but you both are in the bottom three.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Laura grumbles. She held her ukulele; Carmilla had her guitar. They discussed it and decided that their last song for the show was going to be  _Love Will Have Its Sacrifices._  It was the first song they did as a group (well, out of two, but that was besides the point) and definitely their best.

“Now onto the bottom three. Sarah Jane Meisner…”

Carmilla noticed a camera man pointing at Kirsch. Not surprising. He must have had some sappy nervous face on for his girlfriend.

“…Elsie…”

Elsie was one of those artists that only have one name, like Beyonce or Prince. It annoyed the hell out of Carmilla.

“…and Hollstein!”

The first sign that there was something… _off_ was that they got the most applause. Unless the applause meant they wanted them to go home. But that wasn’t how it usually worked, from Carmilla’s experience as a spectator of these shows.

“And the first person safe from elimination…Sarah Jane Meisner!”

Sarah Jane ran to the lounge, throwing her arms around Kirsch’s neck.

Oh, how romantic. Carmilla was going to be sick.

“And now…”

Laura sucked in a breath.

“The act safe from elimination…”

Why did JP always have to take so long?

“Is…”

Seriously, just get the humiliation over with–

_“HOLLSTEIN!”_

The spotlight shined on Carmilla and Laura, both of them looking so shocked that they might have passed out.

“…Aren’t you guys going to go to the lounge?”

“Lounge!” Laura squeaked, “Right! Lounge!” But she didn’t move. Carmilla rolled her eyes and grabbed Laura’s hand.

“Come  _on,_  Cupcake.”

Elsie wasn’t happy. She started her final song and then got so pissed off that she threw her mic on the ground and ran offstage halfway through.

Every singer in the lounge winced when the mic hit the floor.

 _“Oh,_  that looked so expensive…” Perry grumbled. She looked at Laura and Carmilla. “But congratulations, you two!”

“What just happened?” Laura asked, still dazed. Carmilla crossed her arms and looked at her.

“…No fucking clue, buttercup.”

* * *

 

 _Bang bang bang_.

“Carmilla!”

She woke up with a jolt, looking at her digital clock. Midnight. Whatever this was, it could wait.

_BANG BANG BANG._

_“CARMILLA!”_

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Carmilla got up and opened the door. “What is with you and waking me up?”

Laura had her laptop tucked under her arm. “Carmilla, you have to–” Her mouth snapped shut.

So, apparently Carmilla only wore panties to bed. A t-shirt and panties. Who knew, huh?

Carmilla raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’ll remember to do it then.” She tried to close the door, and Laura’s brain unfroze.

“No, wait! Carmilla,  I think I know why we didn’t go home this week, and it is _weird.”_

Carmilla sighed, “Fine, what is this weird discovery?”

Laura shouldered her way into the room. What was with Laura and being in Carmilla’s room all the freaking time? Couldn’t they have these little meetings in her room?

“Carmilla…we are being  _shipped.”_

_“Shipped?”_

“Yes!” Laura’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “So I found a site that has every episode for free–which is totally illegal, but whatever–so I figured, why not? Plus, I totally want to see the comments they made about this last episode, you know? So, I start watching them–and, apparently, whoever is editing these has been showing us a  _lot.”_

“What, they were playing our rivalry for ratings or something?”

“Yeah! And I started seeing this pattern in the comments. We were actually pretty popular when they were going through bootcamp.”

“Get to the weird part so I can go back to bed?”

“I’m getting to that. So, the episode before we were eliminated–it had the most views of all of them. And look at the comments!”

Laura clicks the link to the video with a flourish and Carmilla leans in to look.

_OMG, Hollstein sucked. But did you see that interview?_

_I know, right? They were actually really cute._

_I thought they hated each other?_

_But they’re SO CUTE THOUGH. They should totally date._

_I bet they already are. Did you see Laura throw herself on Carm right before they went to commercial? They must have thought the camera was off. ;)_

“Seriously? A winky face?”

“I know. It’s disgusting.”

“So, let me see if I got your theory straight,” Carmilla sits down on her bed, next to Laura. “We were saved because we have a fanbase that likes our belligerent sexual tension and is convinced we’d make a cute couple.”

“Yeah! Except there is no belligerent sexual tension of any kind…but this is disturbing right? Please tell me you’re disturbed by this.”

Carmilla looks out in the distance, crossing one leg over the other.

“…Carmilla?”

“You know, we can work with this.”

“What do you– _oh,”_ Laura shook her head, shutting the laptop. “Uh-uh. No way. I am not pretending to date you. A million dollar recording contract is not worth that kind of mental torture.”

“Will you start thinking for two seconds?” Carmilla said. “All we did was sling insults at each other, and I put a hand on you once, and everyone is telling us we should get married. We don’t need to pretend to be dating, we just need to be…ambiguously together.”

“And how do you suppose we pretend to be,” Laura used air quotes, “‘Ambiguously together’?”

“We flirt a little after our performances. I’ll call you cupcake more often on camera. We tease each other, which is basically us insulting each other but smiling when we do it. Basically, we do everything we’re doing now but pretend it’s all in good fun.”

“I still hate this idea–”

“Laura, come on. We sucked last week and we stayed in through the sheer power of a bunch of fangirls liking a crack pairing. Imagine if we gave people reason to think it’s real.”

“I–I’m a terrible liar…”

Carmilla shrugged. “What’s acting? You walk in, you say some stuff, you go home. Easy. You just can’t overthink it.”

Laura thought about it. Of course it was a terrible idea. Carmilla was an asshole. A grade-A raging bad person.

But, Laura lied. She was willing to do anything short of murder to get that recording contract.

“…Okay. But we need some boundaries. No kissing. I’m talking lips and cheek. And you need to tell me what we’re going to do before the interview.”  

“Seriously? Just to touch you on the shoulder or something?”

Laura then launched into a lecture on the importance of consent before Carmilla held up a hand.

“Alright. I get it, consent is sexy and whatever. But are you in?”

“As long as we don’t straight up say we’re dating, I guess we’re technically not lying.”

Carmilla’s smile widened to a wicked grin. Laura gulped. “Good, Cupcake. Now, let me see your closet.”

“My closet? Why?”

Carmilla walked to the door of her room, looking back at Laura. “Because if we want people to seriously believe you might be my girlfriend, we need to look at least  _somewhat_  compatible.”

Laura rolled her eyes and got up. “As long as there’s no leather, fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right! Tell your friends, this is a FAKE DATING fic!


	10. Falling Slowly

As if the universe needed to make things _more_ awkward for Laura, the theme for the next week is ‘songs from movies’. Carmilla, of course, is all over doing a love song.

“Come _on_ , Cupcake, just listen to my suggestion.”

“No. Our tastes are _totally_ different, I just know whatever you pick isn’t--”

 _“Falling Slowly_ from _Once.”_

“...Actually, that’s not a bad song.” Laura finished, hanging upside down off Carmilla’s bed. Carmilla smiled.

“Yeah, I know it isn’t. That’s why I suggested it. Not to mention, it’s perfect for our fanbase of Hollstein shippers.”

“Oh God, stop reminding me I agreed to that plan.”

“Admit it, you like the wardrobe change.”

Laura plucked at the new denim jacket she was wearing, smoothing down the wrinkles in her distressed jeans. “No.”

“Too bad.” Carmilla stretched out on the floor of her room, looking up at the ceiling. “Look, just leave it to me, alright? You focus on giving a decent performance.”

“You mean an awesome performance!”

“Right. Passable.”

Laura threw a pillow at Carmilla, which she avoided.

* * *

 

“Thank you Lola Perry, for your fantastic rendition of _Glory_ from _Selma!”_

“Thank _you,_ JP, for being such a gracious host!” Perry exclaimed, holding the mic and grinning.

“Well, don’t take the title of best act of the night just yet, Perry. We still have one more group ready to perform. They barely squeaked by last week, can they make a comeback? Ladies and gentlemen, performing _Falling Slowly_ \--HOLLSTEIN!”

The lights came up. Carmilla was at piano, and Laura was at guitar. She bit her lip. The music started, and Carmilla nodded at her. With a deep breath, Laura strummed the guitar strings.

_“I don’t know you,_

_But I want you,_

_All the more for that…”_

Carmilla joined in on the next verse, eyes half closed.

_“Words fall through me,_

_And always fool me,_

_And I can’t react.”_

Laura looked at Carmilla.

_“And games that never amount,_

_To more than they’re meant,_

_Will play themselves out…”_

For a moment Carmilla raised an eyebrow, smirking, before they both sang the chorus together:

_“Take this sinking boat and point it home_

_We've still got time_

_Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice_

_You'll make it now_

_Falling slowly, eyes that know me,_

_And I can't go back._

_Moods that take me, and erase me,_

_And I'm painted black.”_

Laura grabbed the microphone tightly in her hands.

_“Well, you have suffered enough,_

_And warred with yourself,_

_It’s time that you’ve won.”_

They both went into the chorus a second time, ending the song to the cheers of the crowd. Laura breathed a sigh of relief.

“Wow, talk about redemption!” JP exclaimed, holding the mic up to Laura’s face, “So, what happened this week, guys?”

“Oh--um--well I guess last week was a--”

“--A wakeup call,” Carmilla interrupted, grabbing the microphone, “You know, we get along so well we thought we didn’t need to practice. That was our mistake, though.”

Carmilla’s hand trailed lightly up Laura’s arm to rest on her shoulder. Laura swallowed and tried not to look uncomfortable. She put a hand on Carmilla’s (mostly to avoid the hand going into less savory places), and the older girl smirked at her.

“Well, I think I speak for the audience when I say I hope to see you next week. What do we say, guys?”

The audience cheered and stomped their feet.

“What did I tell you? It’s totally working!” Carmilla exclaimed when they got back to the hotel. Laura ran a hand through her hair, biting her lip.

“Carmilla, I still don’t know about this--”

“Oh, come on, not this again--”

“Seriously!” Laura unlocked the door to her hotel room, “I mean, what will my dad think--”

Laura’s pocket vibrated. She took her cellphone out. “Oh crap! It’s my dad!”

“Put it on speaker.”

“Why?”

“Because I have got to hear his reaction to this.” Carmilla said, grinning.

Laura glared at her, putting the phone on speaker. “Alright, but be quiet.” Laura hissed. _“Heeeey,_ Daddy, what’s up?”

“Laura, I have been watching, and I can’t help but notice all the rumors surrounding you and your new singing partner.”

“Daddy, listen, I can explain--”

“Why have you not introduced me to your new girlfriend yet, Baby Bear?”

“Wha...what?” Laura snuck a glance at Carmilla. She was covering her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh. “Dad, she’s not--”

“--Afraid to say hello!” Carmilla shouted, snatching the phone away from Laura. The shorter girl tried to grab the phone back; Carmilla held her at arm’s length. “It is so great to talk to you, Mr. Hollis! Your daughter is quite the performer, let me tell you. I am so lucky to be performing with her.”

“CARMILLA!”

“Don’t mind her, Mr. Hollis, she’s just afraid I’ll embarrass her.”

“Oh, it’s okay, I’m used to Laura thinking I’ll embarrass her too. Take good care of my little girl, you hear me?”

“Oh, of course, Mr. Hollis, your little cupcake is safe with me. Have a good night!”

Carmilla flipped the phone closed and held it out to Laura. “Any other objections?”

Laura yanked the phone out of her hand. “Just go back to your room so I can have five minutes away from you before I go to bed.” She snapped.

“Fine. See you tomorrow, _Baby Bear.”_ Carmilla answered, jamming her hands in the pockets of her leather pants and sauntering out of the room. There was a loud slam behind her. The door. Fine way to treat her fake girlfriend, Carmilla thought.

Carmilla walked into her own bedroom. Shower, and then bed for her. They had a long day of fake flirting ahead of them.

She walked into the bathroom, turned on the faucet…and immediately had a ceiling full of water fall on her head.  

“What the _fuck?”_ Carmilla looked up; yep, a huge hole in the ceiling. The pipes burst. Carmilla knew this hotel wasn’t exactly the best money could buy, but seriously?

It was about ten o’clock at night. Carmilla could either sleep in a room covered with water, go downstairs and wait for another room, or…

Well, that’s what partners were for, right? Carmilla changed into sweatpants and a wife beater, walking back to Laura’s room. She clenched the doorknob, twisting it in her hand. Laura never locked it; it opened. She opened it quietly. She heard music coming from the room.

Laura’s eyes were closed, strumming the ukulele and singing softly.

_“We’ll do it all,_

_Everything,_

_On our own._

_And we don’t need,_

_Anything,_

_Or anyone.”_

Carmilla closed the door as quietly as she could; Laura, fortunately, didn’t hear. She was too wrapped up in her singing.

_“So if I lay here…_

_If I just lay here,_

_Would you lie with me_

_And just forget the world?”_

Carmilla walked on cat’s feet, stopping when she stood next to Laura. She was sitting with her back against the bedframe. Slowly, she sat down.

_“I don’t quite know,_

_How to say,_

_How I feel…”_

“Hey, cupcake.”

“Carmilla!” Laura started, “Um...how long have you been…?”

“About a minute.”

“You were spying on me?”

“Look, the pipes burst in my room, I needed to crash here. But I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“Why?” Laura rolled her eyes, “Probably something about how I need the practice or something, right--”

“No,” Carmilla answered, “Because it was _good._ Better than anything I’ve heard from you.”

Laura eyed Carmilla suspiciously, tuning her ukulele. “Really?”

“Yeah. Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought, Laura. You just need to loosen up. If you can learn to play everything like you’re alone in your hotel room, we might have a real shot.”

“You mean that?”

“I can’t believe I do, but yes.”

Laura smiled, getting up. “Come on, you can have the couch...partner.”

She held out a hand. Carmilla smiled herself, and took it.

 


	11. Karaoke

Laura learned two things that night after letting Carmilla sleep on her couch:

  1. Carmilla snored. A lot.

  2. When she was laying half off the couch, drooling slightly in her pillow, she looked almost pleasant.

  3. And Laura was certainly going to have pictures to prove it, because _hello_




leverage.

“Hey, wake up, sleeping beauty,” Laura said, shaking Carmilla gently.

“Huh…?”

“Come on. You slept half the morning away.”

Carmilla sat up, rubbing her eyes and looking at the clock. “It’s nine AM.”

“Yeah, and I woke up at six. The morning ends at twelve. Six hours in the morning, you slept for three, ergo, you wasted half--”

“Shut up,” Carmilla snapped. She got up and pushed past Laura.  “I’m taking a shower.”

“Excuse me for waking up early,” Laura grumbled.

“See, that’s your problem,” Carmilla said, raising her voice slightly to be heard from the bathroom.

“What is?”

“You are too uptight. You need to loosen up.”

“Okay, and how do you propose we do that?”

The shower turned on; Laura went to press an ear against the bathroom door.

“I may have a few ideas,” Carmilla said, “Dress in something a little less dorky by the time I get out of the shower, though.”

Laura pinched her owl sweater between pointer finger and thumb. “But I like this shirt…”

“We need to look like a _couple_ , remember?”

Laura crossed her arms. “Why am I the only one that has to change her wardrobe?”  

“Okay. You can pick out one thing for me to wear. But you have to change the owl sweater.”

It seemed like a good deal. Laura changed into a plain black t-shirt. When Carmilla walked out of the bathroom in a towel, drying off her hair, she squinted at what Laura was holding in her hands.

“Oh, _no.”_

“What? It’s black--”

“Yeah, with _bunnies.”_

“Well, we need to start dressing like each other if we want people to think we might be dating. I think it’s a good compromise.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll just refuse to let you touch me during interviews,” Laura answered, “And we’ll see how many people ship us.”

Carmilla glared at her, but she grabbed the jacket and begrudgingly pulled it on.

“Only because it’s dark where we’re going, Cupcake.”

“And where are we going?”

“We, Little Miss Tightly Wound,” Carmilla said as she and Laura walked into the elevator, “are going to a karaoke bar.”

“That doesn’t sound horrible.”

“Then why do you sound like you’re about to go to a Justin Bieber concert?”

Laura couldn’t help but smile a little, amused, but she frowned again before Carmilla would notice.

“Because pool didn’t sound bad either, and that ended with us getting chased by bikers.”

The elevator doors opened and Carmilla and Laura walked out of the hotel.

 _“Relax,_ Cupcake, I reserved a private booth this morning. None of those,” she bumped Laura’s shoulder teasingly, _“vicious_ karaoke bar fights you always get into, right?”

“As long as we don’t take the motorcycle.” Laura answered.

“But--”

“No.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes so hard they almost went inside her head, but she turned and headed toward the bus stop.

The ride on the bus was quiet. The sad next to each other, not speaking. Laura took out her iPod. She had a tendency to whisper the lyrics to herself, and today was no exception.

“...Gonna pick up the pieces, and build a Lego House...If things go wrong we can knock it down…”

Laura noticed Carmilla looking at her out of the corner of her eye. She smiled sheepishly. “Uh, sorry, I’ll try not to sing it to myself--”

Silently, Carmilla grabbed one of Laura’s ear buds and placed it in her own ear. She closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat.

“Wait--you like Ed Sheeran? Like, really like him? I thought you only agreed to do 'Give Me Love' as a compromise.”

“Some music is better than no music,” Carmilla mumbled.

But, Laura caught her tapping her thigh to the beat. Laura smiled.

“Whatever you say, Carm.”

“Don’t push it, Cupcake.”

“You literally just called me Cupcake, and I can’t even use Carm?”

The conversation dried up until they got to the right stop. Carmilla threw back Laura’s ear bud, jammed her hands into her leather jacket, and walked out, Laura walking after her.

“Here it is, Cupcake,” Carmilla said, “Sings and Wings.”

She started laughing.

“...Yeah, it’s a karaoke bar that also sells hot wings. Which happen to be pretty good, by the way.”

“The thought of you spending time in a bar called ‘Sings and Wings’ though,” Laura said, starting to laugh again. Carmilla shrugged and walked in.

“Hey, we reserved a private booth under ‘Karnstein’,” Carmilla said to the maitre’d. He looked at the two of them for a moment, surprised, and smiled.

“I recognize you two. You’re Hollstein!”

Laura smiled bashfully, shrugging. “Yeah, well, that’s us.”

The kid flashed a mouth full of metal. “I voted for you guys! You’re really cool. You know you’re the frontrunners already, right?”

“Of course we are,” Carmilla said flippantly. Now it was Laura’s turn to roll her eyes. If the kid was bothered by Carmilla’s attitude, he didn’t show it.

“Yeah. So why do two competitors on X-Factor want to go to a karaoke bar?”

“Uh, well--”

“We’re singers. Believe it or not we enjoy singing in our free time. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we ordered a private room for a reason, kid.”

“Oh. Right, right. Follow me.” He led them to the room.

“Hey, you don’t need to be so mean to him,” Laura whispered to Carmilla, “He was being nice.”

Carmilla huffed.

“Here’s your room! Have fun, guys.”

It was a medium-sized room, with a big cushiony red lounge couch wrapping around three sides of the wall. The bare side had a big flatscreen TV and the karaoke machine.

“Wow, this room looks fantastic,” Laura breathed.

“Yep. I figured you might be able to try out some edgier stuff if you were doing it in something nerdy like karaoke.”

Laura was not going to let Carmilla get to her. She was not.

In fact, Carmilla wanted her to be edgy? Maybe she should give her what she wanted.

“Alright, Carmilla, but I get to pick my own song.”

“Fine, but if it’s One Direction, I am not responsible for what I may do.”

“Oh, don’t worry.”

See, what Carmilla did not know was that Laura was also kind of a Bea Miller fan.

And, seeing Carmilla, with her leather and her combat boots and her dark...well...everything...gave Laura an idea. Which the karaoke machine luckily had as an option.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Here goes either the worst or best idea I’ve ever had...

Carmilla leaned back in her lounge seat. “Whenever you’re ready, Cupcake,” she said with a smirk, “I’m sure it’ll be adorable.”

Laura tilted her head to one side slightly. “Well, we’ll see.” She started the music. ‘Dracula’ started blasting from the stereo speakers.

_“Here is my story: I’ve got my type._

_Tattoos and skinny jeans,_

_Black boots and piercings,_

_A public enemy."_

Carmilla’s eyebrows shot up so fast that they almost flew off her head. Laura was kind of--okay, very much--enjoying the reaction. So she started to get a little more into it when she got to the chorus.

_“If you were Dracula!_

_I’d be letting you take that bite._

_Hot and hazardous--_

_Like playing with dynamite!_

_Yeah I want Dracula,_

_Forever be young and wild._

_Dark and dangerous…_

_I love, I love, the tragically beautiful.”_

Laura finished the song. Her breathing was slightly heavier from all of the jumping around and dance moves. She looked at Carmilla, expecting her to look like she was laughing or give some snarky comment.

Instead, she just looked confused. And was she...blushing a little?

She was totally blushing a little.

“Hey, what did you think?” Laura asked, trying not to smile too much.

“Well--uh--not as bad as it could have been.” Carmilla finally answered.

“Good.” Laura held out the microphone. “Your turn, now.”

“Me?” Carmilla scoffed. “Karaoke isn’t my thing, sweetheart. This was for you to loosen up.”

“But...you’re a singer. This is what you do. Come on! There’s a lot of good songs on this thing.” Laura went through the list. “‘Vindicated’ is a good song. How about 'Dashboard Confessional?' That seems like your kind of thing.”

Carmilla raised an eyebrow. “Swing and a miss, Hollis. I _hate_ Dashboard Confessional.”

Laura looked back at Carmilla. “Well, come on. I thought we were supposed to be friends now.”

“I don’t have a lot of friends. Now you’re seeing why.” Carmilla shrugged. Laura threw the mic at Carmilla’s head.

“What the _fuck?”_

“You are going to sing, and I am going to pick your song.”

Carmilla rubbed her head. “...You’re not going to take no for an answer, will you?”   
“My friends do a lot of stuff, now you’re seeing why.” Laura answered brightly. Carmilla got up.

“Fine. One song, Cupcake.”

“Good. I already picked one for you.” Laura said, pressing the screen.

“What did you--”

Laura jumped back in her seat just as the music started. As soon as Carmilla recognized it, she covered her ears.

“Goddammit, Cupcake!” Carmilla growled. Laura doubled over in laughter as ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ reverberated around the room.

* * *

 

Carmilla ended their session prematurely after that. The ride home was a little more talkative than the ride there.

"And, what do you know," Carmilla said, scrolling on her iPhone, "That kid took a picture of us and tweeted about it. Surprise, surprise." 

"Wait, seriously?" Laura took the phone. He apparently snapped a picture through the window of the room (wow, creepy) and tweeted: 

_Hollstein ordered a private room! #PowerCouple_

"Already all over tumblr," Carmilla said, "I made a fake tumblr to start following some of the hollstein blogs. It's a  _riot,_ let me tell you." 

Laura was still creeped out by it all. "Wow, now I know what Harry Styles must feel like." 

“I still can’t believe you like One Direction,” Carmilla said, “You’d think a lesbian wouldn’t fall for that pretty-boy crap.”

“You know they were discovered on X-Factor, right?”

Carmilla frowned. “Wait, seriously?”

“Mmm-hmm. Third place.”

“Well, there’s a reason none of those people are still judging.”

“Oh, I don’t disagree, I like these judges better,” the bus stopped, and Laura and Carmilla got off. “I mean, Will Luce has, like, three songs on the top 100 chart right now. I really liked his last album.”

“I actually liked Danny Lawrence’s music the best,” Carmilla wrinkled her nose, “However little I like the actual person.”

“Yeah--” Laura paused when they got into the elevator.

“What?”

“We’re having a conversation.”

“As normal people often do.”

“You know what I mean,” Laura answered, “I mean we’re having a conversation, and you’re actually being moderately pleasant. Or at the very least not a raging bad person,” She shrugged, “I don’t know, it’s nice. Um--what were we talking about?”

Carmilla crossed her arms. “How ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ is a terrible song.”

“It is not!”

Carmilla paused. “Actually, you’re right. The arrangement is fucking awful, but the lyrics aren’t any worse than the usual pop shit.”

“That’s--that’s not as bad as your insults are usually…?”

“I could show you.”

The elevator stopped. “Show me?”

“I break down songs like that all the time. It’s easy. And I guarantee you it will be better.”

“Oh, really?” Laura said, “I’d like to see your ‘way better’ version.”

“Give me a minute.”

Laura waited outside the door of her--well, actually, still their--hotel room.

“You can come in, Cupcake, I just need to find my guitar.”

She walked in and sat down on her bed. Carmilla sat down on the couch.

“Okay, you want to hear a better version?” Carmilla asked.

“Sure, I am shaking with anticipation.” Laura said dryly. Carmilla smirked.

“Ooh, sarcasm. You are picking up a few things from me. Well, here you go. Bear in mind, I’ve never touched this song before.” Carmilla strummed the guitar.

_“You’re insecure. Don’t know what for._

_You turn heads when you walk through the door._

_Don’t need makeup, to cover up._

_Being the way that you are is enough…”_

Carmilla paused, gave Laura a smirk, and gave the guitar a little tap before she got into the chorus.

_“Baby you light up my world like nobody else,_

_The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed,_

_The way you smile at the ground it ain’t hard to tell,_

_You don’t know...you don’t know you’re beautiful.”_

It was slow, and Laura had to admit, it was really good. She didn’t realize until Carmilla got to the last few lines of the chorus that they had locked eyes at some point. It was the first time in the last few weeks that Carmilla didn’t look cocky or smug when she performed. Laura blushed when she realized they were looking at each other, and that kind of broke the magic. Carmilla put her guitar down.

“So--there you go. Much better.” Carmilla said.

“Yeah. Maybe if we had done that we wouldn’t have almost gone home.” Laura answered teasingly.

“...Yeah. Maybe.” Carmilla admitted, “And now I’m going to go to sleep, because dealing with you all day has left me tired as fuck.”

“Sure, yeah--wait.” Laura frowned, “How did you know the right cords if you _just thought_ of playing that song?”

“Lucky?”

“You’ve been _working on_ that cover, haven’t you been!”

“Good _night,_ Creampuff.”

“Carmilla, it’s like twelve in the morning--”

She was already asleep again. Laura rolled her eyes. At least she had a day to herself. She picked up her ukulele and started to tune it.

And--because the song was catchy, alright, that was all--Laura smiled and started to pick out Carmilla’s version of the song.

 


	12. Feel the Beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my friend lesbians-and-puns for suggesting the song Laura and Carm sing in this chapter!

_“I’m coming over,_

_I hope it’s alright._

_Listen to me pulling into your drive._

_Look out your window,_

_You’ll see my lights._

_Girl I gotta see you tonight!”_

Kirsch finished with one more flourish on his guitar, slung it behind his back, and walked forward to put an arm around JP.

“Well, judges, what did you think of Kirsch taking on Scotty Mccreery this week?” JP asked, half laughing at the country boy’s enthusiasm.

“I’ll start,” Danny said, raising her hand. “I’m going to be honest, Kirsch, I was not that excited about you when the others insisted on putting you through.”

The audience started booing.

“I fucking hate when they do that,” Carmilla grumbled from her seat in the lounge, “Laura, I bet you money that she’s going to say ‘but’, and then compliment him and everyone is going to cheer.”

“I wouldn’t take that bet,” Laura said, smiling.  

 _“But,”_ Danny continued, “You have proven me--and anyone else who doubted you--wrong.”

Carmilla arched an eyebrow in Laura’s direction as the crowd cheered, and she smiled.

“I got to agree with Danny, I’m really proud of you man,” Will said, “You’ve really figured out who you are as an artist. That was right in your wheelhouse.”

“Not to mention, I can guarantee you’re getting all the girls’ votes,” Betty added, raising a hand to her ear as all the women in the audience yelled.

“Oh, come _on,”_ Carmilla said, and Laura pushed her gently on the arm.

“You should focus, Carm, we’re up next.”

“If you keep giving performances like this one, you’ll stay a frontrunner in this competition,” LaFontaine said, “Don’t lose momentum.”

“But Laura, you have to admit it’s ridiculous that we’re neck-and-neck with _him.”_

Laura didn’t answer. The two of them had done some internet searching to see where the public was with everything--They were just barely edging out Kirsch and Perry in popularity now, sometimes only by a point or two in some polls. The media was having a field day with them though. A guy from the news had actually interviewed them earlier in the day.

“So,” he had said, “How are you two feeling about tonight?”

Carmilla had a hand casually around Laura’s waist. “Excited. Definitely excited. We’re going to give it one hundred percent as usual.”

“Can I direct this question to Laura?”

Her eyes widened; Carmilla was usually the one who answered all the questions. Laura just smiled and nodded at everything she said.

“Um, sure. Question away! Or, something.”

“A lot of people are applauding the fact that in the past few weeks, you haven’t changed the pronouns in any of the songs you’ve done. Is this intentional, part of the strategy, or what?”

“Uh...well…”

“Because a lot of people have been talking about it being a pretty edgy move from you two gal pals--”

Gal pals.

_Gal pals?_

_GAL. PALS?_

“Okay, first of all,” Laura grabbed the microphone, “That is so sexist. And homophobic! Carmilla and I _happen_ to both be gay, we’re not trying some ‘edgy new strategy’ because we choose to sing a love song about the gender we are attracted to--”

And the reporter’s eyes widened, obviously unsure of what to do. Laura expected Carmilla to be pissed, when she snuck a look at her she was more amused than anything.

“So…” The reporter cleared his throat, “You’re both gay?”

Okay, maybe going off on a social justice tangent, however justified, wasn’t the best idea for gaining fans. “Er--well, kind of, a little--”

“Ecstatic,” Carmilla said dryly, “Make of that what you will. Got to go, songs to prepare.”

She pulled Laura away. “Carmilla, I just accidentally shipped the heck out of us didn’t I?”

“Honestly, that couldn’t have gone better for our fanbase. Good work, cupcake.”

Laura breathed a sigh of relief. So, it went well. Carmilla whipped out her iPhone.

“In fact, they’re _already_ making GIFs of the interview.”

“Seriously? Already? How do they do it so fast?” Laura glanced over and looked at the ‘hollstein’ tag that Carmilla was tracking on tumblr. She couldn’t help but notice the most reblogged GIF set had the added comment of:

_LOOK AT HOW CARMILLA IS LOOKING AT LAURA WHEN SHE’S YELLING AT THE REPORTER. SHE’S LIKE ‘I AM SO PROUD OF MY SMOLL LITTLE FEMINIST BAE’ ASASDJGJJG_

Laura did notice that the one Carmilla liked said: _She looks like an angry, offended hamster._

“...I still think it’s a little weird,” Laura mumbled.

Also, was it weird that she could kind of see what they meant when she looked at the interview, too? Not the hamster thing. But Carmilla had _never_ looked at Laura like that before. As far as she could tell.

Which led them to starting the show, and sitting through Kirsch and Perry’s performances, before they were called up.

“Ready, Cupcake?” Carmilla asked, holding out a hand.

“Always ready, Carm. Let’s do this.”

“Great. And Laura? Good luck.”

And, for the first time, that was that. No backhanded insult. Just a straightforward ‘good luck.’ Laura smiled. “You too, Carm.”

Kirsch gave them a thumbs up as he walked the other way past them, and JP was waiting offstage.

“Hollstein, hello! How you two feeling about tonight?”

“Excited, what else?” Carmilla asked.

She hadn’t let go of Laura’s hand.

“Totally. Super excited. We’re always so grateful for every week we get to perform for America, you know?”

“Good to hear. What will you both be doing tonight?”

“‘I Can’t Make You Love Me’, by Bon Iver,” Carmilla answered.

“Well, good luck guys!”

Carmilla and Laura walked onto the stage. Laura felt weird not holding her ukulele. But this was a song where it just didn’t work.

Everyone else had crazy stuff behind them for their performances; Perry had background dancers and Kirach had a full band behind him, for instance. Carmilla had insisted that they have none of that. It would just be them, a piano, and a performance.

And a little fog. It was a compromise they made with LaFontaine.

Laura felt a little uncomfortable in the outfit they were both wearing. Carmilla had this midriff revealing corset and vinyl pants that made it _really_ hard to look at her directly without blushing. And Laura...well...Carmilla said she looked like a ‘virgin sacrifice’ which was a good thing, she guessed?

Carmilla’s head was bored at the little keyboard in the middle of the stage. Laura was standing a microphone stand next to her. The lights came on, bathing them both in dim light as fog rolled around their feet. Carmilla began playing the piano intro effortlessly, before finally starting the song by herself.

_“Turn down the lights,_

_Turn the bed._

_Turn down these voices,_

_Inside my head._

_Lay down with me,_

_Tell me no lies._

_Just hold me close,_

_Don’t patronize me…don’t patronize me…”_

Carmilla looked at Laura out of the corner of her eye. She sounded beautiful, as always, but Laura felt so naked without her ukulele--this was the first performance without its comforting weight in her hands. She gripped the mic stand, just to give her something to do and joined in on the chorus.

_“Cause I can’t make you love me, if you don’t._

_You can’t make your heart feel something it won’t._

_Here in the dark,_

_In these final hours,_

_I will lay down my heart._

_And I’ll feel the power._

_But you don’t._

_No you don’t.”_

Carmilla didn’t need to look at the keys when she was playing, so they were staring at

each other the entire time. Laura took a breath and sang the final part alone.  

_“Cause I can’t make you love me, if you don’t._

_No you don’t…”_

Carmilla played the last few keys and they stopped. As the fog ebbed and the lights came back up, Laura felt like they were being pulled out of a dream. JP flounced back onstage.

 _“Moving_ performance, ladies, if I do say so myself. But, what did our judges think of Hollstein? LaFontaine?”

“Okay. First of all, you both look fantastic.”

Carmilla and Laura looked at each other. Oh no. Never good when they mention the clothes first.

“Laura, you seemed a little off tonight.”

She smiled sheepishly, nodding. Betty cut in.

“Yeah, you looked a little uncomfortable up there. What happened?”

“The vocals were great, as always, but you were being overshadowed by your partner,” Danny added.

“I know what happened,” Will said, “Laura, this is the first performance you did without your uke, right? You got to learn not to have that as a crutch. I’m confident that’ll come with practice. Overall, good job this week.”

Laura smiled and waved at the crowd until they got offstage. Her shoulders slumped as she sat in her chair in the lounge. “God, I could really use--”

Carmilla reached under her seat and pulled out a sleeve of oreos, throwing them to Laura. She didn’t even look at her.

“...What? I came prepared in case you started talking too much.”

Cookies. She made sure to bring her cookies. How was this the same person that tried to make her eat blood pudding a few weeks ago?

* * *

 

“But Carmilla, they thought I _sucked.”_

“They did not think you sucked, they said you looked a little uncomfortable,” Carmilla said, “Now are you going to shut up and watch this movie _you_ suggested, or what?”

But not even The Lion King and a package of chewy Chips Ahoy could make Laura feel better. She didn’t even bother to change out of her performance outfit when they went back to the hotel room.

(Although, neither did Carmilla.)

“I’m _trying,_ but I _can’t,”_ Laura groaned, “The audience didn’t even boo when they said it--”

“Okay, that is it.” Carmilla got up from the couch. “You. Get up.”

“Why?”

“Because I am going to take you out and make you stop feeling so pathetic.”

Laura sat up. “Where?”

“Clubbing. Now, wipe the cookie crumbs off your dress, slap on some makeup, and let’s go.”

She stood up, wiping down her front. “But Carm, _where?”_

“There’s this really nice underground place,” Carmilla said, opening her purse and putting on mascara, _“Bon Vivant._ They don’t card you there.”

“Wait. _Drinking?_ But that’s illegal--”

“No. You are going. In fact--don’t even put on makeup, it’s so dark in there it doesn’t matter. Come on.”

“But--”

“I’m going!” Carmilla announced, walking out the door. Laura bit her lip, looking at the closed door for a moment.

 _“Ugh._ Wait for me!”

* * *

 

It was about a fifteen minute walk to the club. Laura was following behind Carmilla like a scared puppy or something. They were both silent, but a good silent.

Carmilla had to admit she kind of grew on her. There was definitely more to Laura than she let on. Unlike Carmilla, who walked around _exuding_ mystery. Laura was a little more subtle. Like cutting into a cake and realizing it had more than one flavor.

She should really stop that metaphor before it to the tasting part and made her start blushing.

But, yeah. Laura was cool. Headstrong, naive, and absolutely doomed to lose without Carmilla backing her. Still, she appreciated her determination. And after that performance, she needed a little fun.

“Here it is,” Carmilla said. ‘Bon Vivant’. It was a really fancy name for a really shitty club. The outside was literally all black. _Completely_ black. Not even a sign.

“Um, how did you know where to find this?” Laura asked.

“I have my ways. Now come on.”

(She vaguely recalled some girl hitting on her and taking her there the first time. She was fifteen, on vacation, and she ended up taking a cab back when she realized how fucking stupid she was being.)

The bouncer at the front took one look at Carmilla and let them in.

“Seriously? How often do you come here?”

“Not that much,” Carmilla looked at Laura, “But when Carmilla Karnstein goes somewhere, you remember.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Your other ‘brilliant’ ideas for fun places to go haven’t worked out,” she had to raise her voice to be heard above the pulsing music, “So I hope you’re not mad that my expectations are pretty low.”

“It’s fine. Here, let’s get a drink.”

It wasn’t a terrible place, all things considering. A big dance floor in the middle, some booths off to the side, and a back room with some couches. Carmilla headed to the bar stretching across the right of the club, Laura in tow.

“Hey. I’ll take a screwdriver,” Carmilla said, sitting at the bar. “And one for my friend.”

Laura sat next to her. “I still don’t know how I feel about this.”

“Take _one sip._ It’ll loosen you up for dancing, at the very least.”

The bartender plunked a glass in front of both of them. Carmilla took a sip.

“Alright, but I don’t know why they would name something that’s supposed to taste good a _screwdriver--”_ Laura took a sip. And another. And another. _“Wow,_ this is actually really good. What’s in it?”

“Vodka and orange juice. Or something.”

She knocked back the entire glass, and Carmilla beamed. “See? The police aren’t kicking down the door of the place. You’re fine.”

“Bar keep!” Laura slammed the table, “I’ll have another!”

“Laura, he’s going to spit in your drink if you do that,” Carmilla said. The bartender

made Laura another. Carmilla turned around so she was facing the dance floor, resting her elbows on the bar counter.

“Hey, Carmilla,” Laura said, drinking her second glass, “Did we ever decide what we’re going to do next week?”

“You were too busy _moping.”_ Carmilla said, “We were supposed to strategize but instead you turned on Lion King and opened a pack of cookies over your open mouth.”

“Right…”

Carmilla bobbed her head to the beat, waiting for the DJ to play a good song she could dance to.

“Carole King,” Laura announced. Carmilla snapped her head toward Laura.

“What about Carole King?”

“Are you a fan?”

“No self-respecting musician isn’t a fan of Carole King, cupcake. She’s one of, if not _the,_ greatest songwriter in history. When I was a kid my father--” She stopped. Laura raised an eyebrow.

“Um, what about him?”

“...Well, her Tapestry album was practically the soundtrack of my childhood.” Carmilla finished, her gaze hardening somewhat, daring Laura to question her. Laura was either too buzzed from her second drink to care enough to try, or she knew better. Either way, she continued.

“Would you be excited if I said I wanted to do something by her, next week?” Laura asked.

“I cannot believe I’m saying this,” Carmilla answered beaming at her partner, “But I fucking love that idea.”

Laura raised a hand. Okay, she was definitely a little tipsy. But, it was cute, so Carmilla gave her a high five. Laura was about to say something else when a new song came on and she squealed.

“Oh my gosh, I love ‘Shut Up and Dance With Me!’ She took Carmilla’s hand, jumping off the bar stool. “Let’s dance, come on!”

Carmilla rolled her eyes, but she let Laura lead her out on the dance floor. Laura’s idea of dancing? She was ready to be amused, and Laura didn’t disappoint.

“Christ, Laura, are you doing the _sprinkler?”_

“I’m having _fun._ My dad never let me go out, let alone go to a club!”

To Laura’s credit, her dancing was certainly... _enthusiastic._ And they were being given a lot of space on the floor.

“This isn’t how people dance at clubs, creampuff--”

“Listen to the song, and _shut up and dance!”_ Laura answered, laughing. She couldn’t help it; maybe it was the music, or the drinks, or even Laura’s energy, but something about the night was infectious, putting Carmilla in a good mood. When the song was over Laura pulled them both back to the bar.

The night got kind of hazy after around her fourth drink. Except that Laura was still drinking after Carmilla stopped. When she looked over and saw that Laura had her head on the bar top, Carmilla thought maybe the night had gone on a little too long.

“Laura? _Cupcake.”_ She shook her. Laura’s head snapped up.

“Wha…? Did you want to dance some more?”

“You fell asleep at the bar, cutie. As leader of this little excursion, I’m making the executive decision to call it a night.”

“Oh. Okay, let’s go--” Laura got up and promptly fell down. “I’m fine! Just a...little...dizzy.”

 _“Wow,_ you are a lightweight.” Carmilla opened her wallet, dropped everything in it on the counter, and hauled Laura back to her feet. “You are drunk. And I am slightly drunk. But I am less drunk than you, so it looks like I’m going to need to get you home.”

“Alright. Are you going to help me walk?”

“What do you want me to do? Give your drunk ass a piggyback ride?”

“At least let me lean on you, then.”

Carmilla sighed and put an arm around her shoulders, walking with Laura back to the hotel. The entire time Laura was babbling about how great she felt, y’know, other than her barely being able to walk without stumbling.

“Seriously Carmilla, that was _so much fun_. So much! Those drinks were great...I don’t even care that I wasn’t supposed to drink them anymore...I feel like such a rebel! And my dad would totally have a heart attack if he found out.”

“Yeah, yeah, glad to hear it, Laura,” Carmilla said; she’d practically become dead wait as she dragged her into the elevator, down the hallway, and into their room. She finally dropped her onto the bed.

“Now, get some sleep, and don’t complain about your hangover in the morning.”

Finally. Now Carmilla could deal with her own drunkenness. She settled on the couch and closed her eyes--

“Carmilla.”

“Laura, _bedtime.”_

“But I’m not tired.”

She was sitting on the couch now; their shoulders were practically touching, and even though Laura had the slightly out of focus look of the inebriated, she looked almost serious.

“...What is it?”

“I have a confession to make.”

“Okay?”

“I wasn’t just upset because of what they said,” Laura admitted, “It was also because I feel like you’re always going to be better than me, no matter what I do.”

“You’re not--” Carmilla started, but of course, this was ‘drunk Laura’, and Carmilla learned that this Laura’s rambling was even worse.

“Being jealous isn’t good, I know, but there’s so much about you to be jealous about. You’re cool, you’re confident, your voice is _amazing,_ and you’re _really_ pretty, besides--”

Carmilla smiled. Okay, she was starting to enjoy drunk Laura.

“--And I used to _not_ be jealous, just angry, because I hated you. But I don’t anymore. I don’t know. After we went to that karaoke bar I listened to that song you did, that One Direction cover and I’m way too drunk to remember the name of it, but it was really sweet. I kept thinking about it…”

Laura started to drift off; her head rested on Carmilla’s shoulder.

“...I couldn’t stop thinking about it--I can’t stop. It was so nice...like I said, I used to think you were a jerk, but now I don’t think that anymore.”

They locked eyes. Their faces were inches apart.  “You don’t know what you’re saying. We’re both drunk,” Carmilla said. She meant it teasingly, but it came out soft.

“I don’t anymore,” Laura said again, “In fact, I like you. Sometimes...I mean...I think I even want to...”

Carmilla’s heart was pounding like the beat in the nightclub. The entire room seemed to condense until the only thing in the world was that dingy hotel couch. Laura lifted her head slightly, the space between them about a centimeter--

\--Until Laura covered her mouth with her hand, jumped off the couch, and ran to the bathroom. Within thirty seconds Carmilla could hear Laura puking her guts out.

Her breathing was shallow; Carmilla tried to register exactly what just happened.

Laura had drunkenly admitted she liked her.

It looked like Laura was about to kiss her.

Carmilla might have considered that no big deal. She’d tried weirder things when she was drunk.

Except...Carmilla was going to let her. She _wanted_ Laura to kiss her.

“Sorry, Carm,” Laura groaned, stumbling out of the bathroom, “I think I’m gonna’ go to bed…”

“Laura, what were you saying before?”

“What? I dunno. My head is _really_ fuzzy.” She looked at Carmilla, puzzled. “What was I saying?”

Carmilla looked away from her. “You were spewing some incoherent drunk shit,” she said, “Don’t worry about it.”

Laura fell face first onto the bed and was snoring within minutes.

Carmilla stared at the ceiling most of the night.

 


	13. Will you still love me tomorrow?

Results came and went. Laura and Carmilla, unsurprisingly, were in. So were Kirsch and Perry. Kirsch wasn't exactly _happy_ with the results, though.

“Hey, Kirsch,” Laura said when they all got back to the hotel, “Sorry that Sarah Jane--”    

Kirsch walked past her without saying a word. Perry shook her head. “Poor dear has been in a stupor. You shouldn’t take it personally. Brownie?”

Laura grabbed one and passed another to Carmilla. She’d been getting along better with Perry, lately--and by ‘get along’, Laura meant that she would stand with her and Laura and not say anything rude.

Carmilla bit into it, nodded, and looked at Laura. “I’ll be up in our room, Cupcake. I’ll see you for practice?”

“Totally, Carm. See you.”

Carmilla turned the corner of the hallway. Perry looked at Laura, raising an eyebrow. _“_ Our room?”

“Oh. Yeah--the pipes in Carmilla’s room burst, so she’s been sleeping on my couch for a few weeks. Not a big deal.”

“That must be difficult for you.”

“Not as bad as you’d think. Once you get to know her she can actually be nice and really fun. I mean, like, fifty percent of the time? Her sarcasm is more funny than hurtful--” Laura stopped. “...Perry, don’t give me that look.”

“I was just wondering why it’s taken a few weeks to fix burst pipes, dear,” Perry said with a pointed look.

Actually, Laura had never really thought about that. “Still.”

“I’m happy you and Carmilla are getting along, then,” Perry finished, touching Laura gently on the shoulder before walking to her room. “I’m going to see if I can get Kirsch to eat something. Baked goods make everything better, after all.”

“Bye, Perry,” Laura called after her, before going to the elevator and heading to her floor. She walked into her room.

“Hey, Laura. Ready to practice? I am still amazed we actually agreed quickly for once.”

“Uh, sure. Hey Carm, is your room fixed yet? The pipes and everything? Or did they get you a new one?”

Carmilla frowned. She was sprawled out on the couch--as per the usual--and she sat up. “Why?”

“I dunno, just...curious. It’s taking them awhile.”

Carmilla shrugged. “I mean, I sort of forgot about it--you know me, I can sleep through a nuclear blast, the couch doesn’t bother me. You were always walking into my room anyway, so this just cuts out the middleman.” Carmilla flashed a lopsided smile, “What, you getting sick of me, cutie?”

“Oh--no.” Laura sat on her bed. “If anything, it’s the opposite. I like you more the longer you’ve been here. I wouldn’t have wanted you to leave anyway, to be honest.”

Carmilla regards her with a raise of the eyebrows, and Laura wondered if she maybe said too much, or if it sounded a little too...familiar? Personal?

But what was wrong with that, anyway? They were roommates and singing partners. If they weren’t close by now that should be a problem--

Wait. Was Carmilla...blushing?

“Let’s just work on the music,” Carmilla grumbled.

“Oh. Uh,” Laura grabbed her ukulele, looking at Carmilla out of the corner of her eye, “Sure.”

“So, I was thinking...maybe I start out just doing the piano and you do the vocals in the first verse?”

“Me? But you’re--”

“I’m _not,”_ Carmilla ran a hand through her hair, “Look, we’re a team now. Seriously. There should be no ‘lead’ singer in this duet. The judges want you to show off, so that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Oh my God, Carm, thank you.” Laura rested her ukulele in her lap, “I mean, I know you’re not doing it to make me feel better, but--”

“Don’t be an idiot, Laura,” Carmilla answered, sitting up and stretching, “Of course I’m doing it for you. You’re not worse than me Laura; you’re just not. And...yeah. Everyone should see that.” Carmilla looked at Laura, elbows resting on her thighs.

Laura had no idea what to say. Or the presence of mind to look away, to be honest. So, she turned to what she and Carmilla always did instead of talking.

“Right. So. A performance.”

Finally, Carmilla sighed, getting up to grab her keyboard. “Let’s practice, cupcake.”

* * *

 

“I still can’t believe a woman whose specialty is rap is tied with us for the favorite,” Carmilla grumbled, leaning back in spot in the lounge.

“Hey, be nice, Carm. Perry’s my friend, and she’s _killing_ it right now. So _shhhh.”_

“Everybody, get your hands up!” Perry  exclaimed. Laura followed, clapping along. She looked at Carmilla. She rolled her eyes, but started clapping with a completely serious face as Perry sang.

_“I know you lie,_

_‘Cause your lips are movin’,_

_tell me do you think I’m dumb?_

_I might be young,_

_But I ain’t stupid,_

_Talking ‘round in circles with your tongue!”_

Perry finished the final verse, putting a hand to her chest. “Oh my, thank you all!” She said, placing a hand on her chest and smiling broadly. The judges all gave their comments; they were pretty much the same as the ones Perry got every week. They loved her originality, they loved her style, and they loved her self confidence. Perry walked back up to the lounge, fixing her collar. “Good luck, girls!” Perry said to Carmilla and Laura.

“Let’s do this,” Carmilla said, cracking her knuckles. “Ready, Laura?”

“I think? Hopefully.”

“Hey, Laura, come on. You’ll be great. I’m sure of it.” Laura smiled at her.

_Too nice. TOO NICE. Shut it down, Carmilla, save it for the camera…_

“Hollstein!” JP exclaimed when the two walked down, “How are you both feeling, today?”

“Well, JP, I know I’m excited,” Carmilla said, “I think this week we’re really going to show off Laura’s vocal ability.”

“So, it’s no secret that you both had your disagreements at the beginning of the competition…” JP started. Before Carmilla could answer, Laura jumped in.

“That seems like a lifetime ago, to be honest,” Laura said, “Carmilla is...well, she’s different. She’s different from every other person I’ve ever met and...you know...I’m really glad they forced us together, because now I can’t imagine _not_ singing with her.”

Carmilla was uncomfortably aware of the hand Laura had on the small of her back. She prayed that JP would stop already so she could get onstage. The worst part? They were acting. When Laura was sober, it was acting. That was _all_ it was.

At least, that’s what Carmilla told herself.

“Well, good luck! Taking on Carole King’s ‘Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow’... _Hollstein!”_

Carmilla and Laura set up on the stage. Carmilla behind the keyboard, Laura standing at a microphone stand with a guitar slung behind her. It was up to Laura, now. 

_“Tonight you’re mine, completely._

_You give your love so sweetly…_

_Tonight the light of love is in your eyes,_

_But will you love me, tomorrow…”_

Laura swung her guitar around, strumming as Carmilla started playing the keys. Laura kept singing as Carmilla watched her, beaming as she picked up the tempo. It was Carmilla’s idea to make it a little faster.  

_“Is this a lasting, treasure?_

_Or just a moment pleasure?_

_Can I believe the magic of your sight?_

_Will you still love me, tomorrow?”_

Laura took a step back, closer to the piano. Their eyes met as Carmilla started singing with her.

_“Tonight with words unspoken,_

_You say that I’m the only one._

_But will my heart be broken?_

_When the night meets the morning sun.”_

And now it was Carmilla’s turn. She grabbed her microphone from its stand at the piano, getting up from her seat as the band took over the music. Laura, of course, lent Carmilla a hand to help her. They both smiled at each other and Carmilla didn’t take her eyes away from Laura as she started her solo.

_“I’d like to know that your love,_

_Is love I can be sure of._

_So tell me now and I won’t ask again_

_Will you still love me tomorrow?”_

She couldn’t help herself; Carmilla put a hand on Laura’s hip, pulling her close. They sang the last line together again, the tempo slowing back down.

 _“Will you still love me, tomorrow…_ ”

Carmilla was hyped up on adrenaline from a successful performance. Everything was warm from the stage lights, and Laura was blushing, and having Laura so close after singing a love song made Carmilla want to explode, she had so much tension--

So was it really her fault that she kissed Laura?

(It wasn’t a _kiss_ exactly...it was really only a _peck ..._ and more on the corner of her mouth than anything. Really. It _barely counted._ )

Laura, however, did not seem amused. She pulled back, putting a hand over her mouth. Carmilla regretted what she did almost immediately.

_Stupid, stupid, STUPID, Carmilla._

The entire crowd was roaring, but Carmilla didn’t care. She only cared about how shocked Laura’s expression was. She glanced at the judges. It was clear she was struggling to maintain her composure.

The judges started their comments. It was the best reviews the two of them got all season; or at least that’s what Carmilla heard afterward. She couldn’t hear them over the pounding in her chest.

* * *

 

“I _still_ cannot _believe_ you did that!” Laura shouted suddenly, turning on Carmilla. It was the first time they spoke since the performance. But now there was no chance of

anyone walking in on them, and boy did Laura have a lot to say.  

“Do you have to do this in the elevator, Laura?” Carmilla grumbled, leaning against the back wall.

“Yes, because I’m not letting you run away. Seriously, Carmilla, what was that? _Kissing_ me? Without asking me if it was okay?”

“I was acting, I didn’t--”

 _“ Acting?_ I don’t _care_ if you were acting! Do you not know what the word _consent_ means?”

“I gave you a fucking peck, cupcake,” the elevator stopped, and Laura followed Carmilla as she pushed past Laura to walk into the hallway. “It isn’t a big deal. Get a grip.”

“I didn’t even want to do this fake will-they-or-won’t-they thing in the first place,” Laura answered, walking into their room. She looked at the door she’d just closed, opening it again and slamming it. This argument called for slamming! “Now there’s going to be a million things on tumblr and probably the front page of yahoo news and buzzfeed about it. My _only_ condition was ‘no kissing’. That was it. But you did anyway. Because...because you don’t care about anyone but yourself!”

Carmilla crossed her arms, her entire body tensing. “Fine. I don’t give a shit about anyone but myself. Will that make you happy?”

 _“ No.”_ Laura sat down on the couch; Carmilla was sort of leaning against the bed. “I thought we were _friends,_ Carmilla. Or at least, I didn’t hate you anymore--”

“Like you said to me after we went to the club?” Carmilla interrupted. Laura blinked.

“...I can’t remember anything I said.”

“Then maybe you should think a little harder, because you weren’t exactly opposed to the idea of me kissing you then," Carmilla snapped.

“Oh, so now it’s okay because I was drunk?”

Carmilla flinched. “Stop making me sound like a fuckboy, Laura.”

“Stop being so confusing!” Laura threw her hands in the air, “First it was because you were acting, now it’s because I said I’d want to when I was drunk. Did you want to do it for real or not?”

Carmilla shook her head. “I--I--”

“Because _maybe,_ if you weren’t such a...a...raging bad person sixty percent of the time, leaving your hair in the shower drain and eating all my food, I want to kiss you when I’m sober. Maybe it wouldn’t be so much of an issue!”

Carmilla’s eyes narrowed. “Well, maybe if you weren’t so annoying I’d want to be less of an asshole so that we could kiss more!”

Wait, where was this conversation going?

“Well--well you’re still a jerk, so it doesn’t matter. So, so _there."_

“Yeah, I guess that’s it then,” Carmilla said slowly.

The argument ran out of steam after that. “Goodnight!” Laura huffed, laying on her side on the couch.

“Wait, what are you…?”

“I don’t want to look at you, just take the bed.”

“Fine!”

Laura rolled over. She tossed and turned for a bit when--

“Oof! What the…?” Laura sat up and saw her yellow pillow.

“You always sleep with that thing,” Carmilla said, “I don’t want to listen to you rolling around on the couch all night. Also, I hate you.”

“You are the worst singing partner ever,” Laura huffed, grabbing the pillow and burying her face in it.

* * *

 

Morning. Laura sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Carmilla was already dressed, sitting on Laura’s bed with a book in her hands. Laura got up, and Carmilla noticed her make a point not to look at her as she walked into the bathroom.

Whatever. Carmilla didn’t care, anyway. Laura was some stupid, provincial girl that Carmilla would get over in a week, probably more like days. Carmilla got up, rifling through the drawers for Laura’s candy stash.

Laura walked out of the bathroom. “...Carmilla, what did you do in there?”

“What?”

“The shower drain.”

Oh. Right. Carmilla shrugged. “I took a shower, and I had nothing better to do. So I cleaned it. Just so you won’t bite my head off--”

“And are you going through my stash of candy?”

“I’m hungry.”

“You’re stealing my food again,” Laura said to herself, “But you also cleaned the shower drain…”

Carmilla stared at Laura. She looked like she was thinking about something; her hair was a mess and she was still in her clothes from last night’s performance. “Uh, cup--” She was stopped by the sudden realization that Laura was right in front of her. “Okay, so here’s the thing. You’re still a jerk,” Laura put a hand on Carmilla’s cheek, “But it’s definitely a good start.”

True to her words from last night, Laura waited. She was not a hypocrite. Carmilla put a hand on the small of Laura’s back and pulled her in the final few inches.

And _wow,_ it was way better than a peck.


	14. Why does love always feel like a battlefield?

“We are kissing,” Laura said into Carmilla’s mouth, “We are actually kissing, I can’t believe it--”

“You mean we would be, if you weren’t so insistent on talking.”

Carmilla was pushed against the dresser, slamming the drawer shut as Laura pressed kisses to her jawline.

 “Sorry. I just--you know I have a tendency to ramble. A little.”

 If anything I should be the rambling one,” Carmilla said, gently pushing Laura toward the bed. Laura’s knees hit it and she laid down.

 “Why?”

Carmilla grinned. “I am totally hooking up with…” She put her hands on the bed, “The future winner of X-Factor…” Carmilla made a show of crawling slowly onto the bed, straddling Laura, until her face was hovering above hers. “And she’s gorgeous.”

She kissed Laura soundly, shutting her up for a few minutes. Laura tangled her hands in Carmilla’s hair. “I don’t know,” Laura said breathily, “A lot of people think her singing partner is the better looking one--”

“They’re all fucking idiots,” Carmilla interrupted. A warm, adoring smile spread across Laura’s face.

“I cannot believe I am kissing you,” Laura repeated. Carmilla rested on her elbows, hands cradling Laura’s face.

“Why? We’ve been dating for weeks,” Carmilla said teasingly.

“Be serious for two seconds,” Laura answered, “It’s just...a month ago I would have had no idea that we would be here, you know?”

Carmilla rested her forehead against hers. “Yeah. I know exactly what you mean.”

“Especially learning that you’re a huge, gooey sap,” Laura continued. Carmilla frowned a little.

“Excuse me, I am a badass.”

“Yeah. A badass who’s rubbing noses with me.” Laura answered.

“...Shut up.” Carmilla grumbled, stopping. She hadn’t even realized she was doing it.

Laura giggled, kissing Carmilla again. “What are we now, anyway? I mean, obviously we like each other. Everyone already thinks we’re dating. It might be...nice.”   

Carmilla drummed her fingers against Laura’s cheek. “You know, part of our appeal is the ‘will they or won’t they’ thing.”

“You kind of ruined that last night,” Laura pointed out.

“I checked tumblr. They’re all arguing over whether that was a kiss on the lips or the cheek--”

“Definitely lips.”

“--Still though, we’re more popular than ever.”

“So, let me get this straight. Instead of fake dating, we’re going to fake not dating.”

“Maybe dating.”

Laura frowned.

“...Come on, cutie, just until we win,” Carmilla said, “Besides, do you really want to deal with the paparazzi asking us about our relationship?”

Laura remembered all the invasive questions they were getting already. “That is true. We can keep this quiet. So...what now?”

Carmilla grinned, resting her head in the crook of Laura’s neck.

“Carm?”

“Nap. We both take a nap. I lied, the couch fucking sucks.”

Laura smiled. “That sounds great.”

The thought had been spinning around in Laura’s head throughout their conversation, and it did one more time before she let herself fall asleep, arms wrapped around Carmilla. How was this the same person that Laura met at the start of the competition?

* * *

“...Are you serious? That’s so cool. Like so, so cool!” Laura gushed into the phone, smiling with Carmilla’s arms wrapped around her waist. Her lips were attached to Laura’s neck, and Laura was trying very, very hard not to sound too breathy on the phone.

“Oh of course Carmilla and I will be there. We’ll get dressed right now. Thank you, LaFontaine!” The phone dropped; Laura turned around, putting her hands on Carmilla’s chest.

“Carm, if you leave a mark on my neck that’s gonna be kind of obvious.”

“Mmm,” Carmilla hummed, “I suppose that’s true. We should find another place for my lips to go, then.”

Laura grinned. “We should.”

Carmilla leaned in, hands cupping Laura’s face. They kissed for a few moments before Laura pushed her away.

“...Sorry, Carm. LaFontaine called and said we need to go down to the studio. Practice now, smooching later.”

“We’ve been doing fine on our own. You sure you wouldn’t rather spend the day with your nice…” Carmilla kissed her, “Warm…” Her hand trailed up Laura’s side--

“Uh-uh! No more kissing until we meet the special guest judge. Besides, I do not trust our ability to be focused on practice right now.”

“‘Guest judge’?”

“Yep. LaF said they’re super secret. So throw on some leather and let’s go meet them!“

She went into her closet, grabbing her jacket. Carmilla knew when Laura had her mind on something it was no use.

“You should be happy, Carm. The guest asked to meet us first. Who do you think it is?”

“I don’t care. Whoever it is, we’re going to be as big as them in a few weeks.”

“Why did I have to be kissing someone with a huge ego?” Laura grumbled. Carmilla walked back to Laura, grinning.

“Because you can’t resist me, babe.”

“Oh, I’m ‘babe’ now?” Laura teased. Carmilla’s cheeks turned slightly pink.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just saying whatever I can to kiss you again.”

“You are unbelievable.”

With every word they threw at each other Carmilla got closer, until Laura was gripping the leather of Carmilla’s jacket.

“I know I am,” Carmilla started to laugh softly, “We are cute as fuck. No wonder we’re half the internet’s OTP.”

Laura leaned in close, until Carmilla could feel Laura’s breath against her lips.

“...Race you to the studio!”

Carmilla groaned, following Laura as she raced out of the hotel room.

* * *

“Yeah, we have no idea who it is,” Laura said to the camera, “But Carmilla and I are so excited.”

“To be totally honest, I almost think we’re going to see them when we walk in,” Carmilla said, and Laura gave her a disapproving look.

“I’m sure it’s an actual guest, Carmilla.”

“Like LaFontaine isn’t the type of person to make jokes like that,” she pointed out, and Laura couldn’t help but shrug in agreement.

“Alright, girls, come meet the judge!” LaFontaine shouted, motioning for them to walk into the room.

“Yes, let’s go!” Laura exclaimed. She grabbed Carmilla’s wrist and walked into the room.

She immediately gasped.

“Oh my God, you’re Ell Kershaw!”

The woman leaning against the piano in the practice room smiled, pushing off to walk toward them. She was older, at least twenty-five, with a single hot pink streak of hair that curled just past her shoulder along with the rest of her thick, blonde mane.

“Hollstein. What an honor. As soon as LaFontaine called me asking if I wanted to try I said ‘sure, as long as I get to work with Laura and Carmilla first’.”

Laura was freaking out. This was Ell Kershaw. Former winner of the X-Factor. Grammy Award winner. Avril Levine, Kelly Clarkson, and Taylor Swift all rolled into one fierce ball of musicianship.

Ell flashed a crooked grin at Carmilla. “You don’t seem as excited as your gal pal over here, sweetheart.”

Laura looked at Carmilla. She looked completely dumbstruck. She finally managed to choke out, “Sorry. Just not a fan.”

“How can you not be a fan?” Laura said, “Miss Kershaw--”

“Oh, please, none of that shit. Call me Ell.”

“Ell, your album Touch the Sky was one of the best albums I’ve ever had. My dad bought it for me and I locked myself in my bedroom for a week listening to it and teaching myself to play guitar for all the songs--”

“That’s great,” Ell answered, rubbing her hands together. “So, not a fan, Carmilla? I’m surprised.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Um...guys? Practice? Rehearsal?”

“Right,” Carmilla said, “Rehearsal. No talking. None.”

“Please be nice,” Laura whispered as Ell walked back toward the piano, “Just because you don’t like her album doesn’t mean you have to be mean to her.”

“Whatever,” Carmilla huffed. Laura rolled her eyes and followed Ell to the piano to get ready for warm ups.

* * *

 Ell. Fucking bitch.

 She didn’t take her eyes off of Carmilla the entire rehearsal. Normally Carmilla would have no problem with a rockstar not being able to take her eyes off her, but when it was Ell? Carmilla wanted nothing to do with her.

It didn’t help that Laura was fangirling majorly over her. She was giving Ell puppy-dog eyes the entire time. Why was it that every woman ever fell for her cocky, overinflated ego?

Well...okay, Carmilla knew the irony of her thinking that, but come on. Carmilla was more attractive. Obviously.

After an hour of refusing to speak to her directly, it was finally over. Laura cracked her knuckles.

“This was so much fun! Thank you, Ell. Carm, I’m going to use the bathroom before we leave--do you mind organizing everything?”

“...Fine. Cupcake. I’ll make sure we’re ready when you leave.”

She could see Ell against the wall, watching them both as Laura walked away. She flashed a grin at Carmilla when she--unfortunately--caught Ell’s eye as she turned around.

“Hey, Carm.”

“You’re not calling me that.”

“Aw, come on,” Ell pushed off the wall, walking toward Carmilla. “Not even a proper ‘hello’?”

“No. As far as I’m concerned, we’ve never met before.”

“Oh, and I am so hurt,” Ell clutched her chest, pretending to look devastated, “Seems like you’re doing alright, though. What’s up with you and the blond--”

“Her hair is honey at best, asshat.”

Ell rolled her eyes. “That’s all the clarification I need. Doesn’t seem like your type.”

“Well, maybe I’ve learned better.”

“As if.”

Carmilla shook her head, going to the piano; she bumped into it, cursing as sheet music fell all over the floor. “Fuck! You know what? Unless it has to do with singing, you are not talking to me. Alright?”

Ell raised an eyebrow. “Alright. I have a song for you, then.” Ell sauntered over, resting an arm on the piano.

“Whatever.”

 _“Hey, hey, you, you, I don’t like your girlfriend--”_ Ell sang, teasingly.

“I am warning you, Kershaw--”

_“No way, no way, I think you need a new one--”_

“I told you to fucking shut it!” Carmilla shouted, whipping around to glare up at her, sheet music buckling in her clenched fists.

Ell looked down at her with a bemused smile.

“Um...guys?”

“Laura!” Carmilla jumped away from Ell. “I’ve got our stuff. Let’s go.”

“Are you okay Carmilla? You look kind of, uh--”

“Oh, she’s fine,” Ell said, waving her hand, “We were just having a heated debate on whether or not One Direction is this generation’s Beatles.”

“I’ve had that argument with her, Ell. Trust me, it’s easier just to not bring it up.”

Laura grinned at Carmilla, who gave a jerky shrug.

“Let’s just go back to the hotel.”

“Um, thank you for the practice, Ell!” Laura said, waving goodbye before hastily following Carmilla.

Ell shook her head, a smile on her face before walking over to shut the door.

* * *

 “She had a bit of an ego,” Laura said back in the hotel room, “But she was really helpful, don’t you think?”

They were sitting together on the bed, Carmilla’s head against Laura’s chest and Laura’s arms around her waist. She was desperately trying to get more than two words out of Carmilla--she’d been kind of distant all day.

“Yeah, I guess,” Carmilla answered, moving her head so that she could kiss Laura. Like every other time, Laura was the one that stopped.

“Carm, come on, you keep doing that.”

“You’re right. I am so sorry I keep trying to make out with you. I really should respect you more,” Carmilla answered dryly, rolling her eyes.

“No, that’s not the problem. The problem is you’re trying to use it instead of talking. Carm, you’ve been acting weird all day. What is wrong?”

Carmilla didn’t answer.

“Was it something that happened while I was in the bathroom? Something Ell said to you or something?”

 “No.”

Because you looked really freaked out when we saw her, and then when I walked in it looked like you guys were about to punch her or something--”

“I said I’m fucking fine, Laura.”

She was taken aback, grip slackening on Carmilla’s waist. “Because ‘fucking fine’ is so convincing?”

Carmilla didn’t answer; she got up instead. Laura swung her legs around so she was sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“Out. Without you.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Because clearly you won’t let this go, so I’m out of here.”

“At least tell me where you’ll be!”

“No, because you’ll follow me.”

“Carm.”

She paused with her hand on the door, about to close it.

“At least tell me when you’re coming back?” Laura asked softly.

Carmilla’s shoulders slumped slightly. “...I’m going to come back. I promise.”

She closed the door. Laura cracked her knuckles. “Oh boy, you are not getting away with this.”

Laura passed on getting a major in journalism to do this competition. If there was one thing Laura had, it was a thirst for the truth.

Carmilla may have her broody, mysterious past, but Laura had google.

She grabbed her laptop and got to work.

So, the most obvious thing: Laura typed in ‘Carmilla Karnstein’.

...Nothing substantial.

Okay. Laura typed in ‘Ell Kershaw, Carmilla Karnstein’.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t get sent down the youtube rabbit hole on that one. But Ell was so freaking good.

But, once again, nothing.

Laura typed in just Ell’s name, then. She was two hours in clicking on every single article. Even just a twitter war that she and Carm got into or something.

Eventually Laura mostly gave up on finding anything. She was just looking at the articles to look at them, now.

There was a slideshow of pictures in one of them, which Laura flipped through. Ell had thrown some kind of Grammy Awards after party, and the reporter had captured stills of Ell taking pictures with celebrities.

And then something in the background of one caught Laura’s eye.

“Holy Hufflepuff, Carm?”

It was blurry. But, in the background of a picture of Ell with her arm wrapped around Lady Gaga, Laura saw her. Downing, what looked to be, a beer keg.

Ell was famous for her pretty insane parties.

But how the heck did Carmilla get invited to one of Ell Kershaw’s parties? With the likes of Lady Gaga and Maroon 5?

“Oh, you are not keeping this a secret, Karnstein,” Laura said to herself. She got up. “Screw not knowing where you are, I am following you!”

But not without documenting the evidence.

* * *

It was way easier to find Carmilla than Laura had thought it would be. She was in the hotel lounge.

“Carmilla?”

She looked at Laura. Carmilla was hunched over the table, glass in hand, a jazz band playing on the stage. “Hey.”

“Hey. Are you…?”

“They card you here. This coke and rum without the run.”

“Oh. Good. Because you have a lot of explaining to do.”

 “For the last time, I am not--”

 "That is not your decision, Carm!” Laura sat down across from her, leaning in to whisper. “You are the one that kissed me. So you need to be honest with me. You made your bed, now you got to lie in it, otherwise--otherwise there is no way you’re lying with me.”

Carmilla raised an eyebrow and Laura blushed. “...Wow, Laura, I did not know you had that in you.”

“Just--just explain this.” Laura took the picture she printed out, Carmilla circled with red marker.

 “How do you know that’s me?”

 "I’d bet my life on it. Carmilla, please. I really like you, and I want to help. How do you know Ell?”

Carmilla looked at the picture, her eyes sunken and tired. “...I don’t want to do this here, Laura. I can’t.”

“Carmilla, if we’re going to--”

“No, I mean I literally can’t. If anyone overhears this I am going to be in a fuck ton of legal trouble.”

_“Legal trouble?”_

“Technically I can’t even tell you,” the chair scraped across the floor as Carmilla got up. “But screw it, I know I won’t be able to get away from your whining if I don’t tell you. And...I trust you. Come on.”

Laura felt a rush of fear as she got up to follow Carmilla. Maybe she noticed--maybe she was scared too. Because she slotted their fingers together, giving Laura a half hearted smile.

 “In public…?”

“Friends can hold hands, you know.”

 “Yeah. We are such gal pals.”

 Her smile became more genuine as they walked back to the elevator.

 


	15. White Houses

“Laura, can we just get this over with?”

Carmilla sat on the couch, her body language of someone who was defeated. Laura was cleaning up their room, making the bed and throwing trash away.

“I’m sorry, I’m just weirdly nervous to hear this.”

“If you’d rather I not--”

“Don’t even try that, Carmilla! It’s just--I know you well enough to know it’s pretty special when you decide to share backstory.”

“Yeah,” Carmilla said softly, looking at the floor, “It is. Also, this will technically cost my family millions of dollars if it gets out.”

“Oh my God the suspense is killing me,” Laura sat down at the edge of the bed, leaning in. “Alright. I’m ready.”

“...Okay. First of all--”

“Wait!” Laura got up and ran to the door, putting the ‘do not disturb sign’ on the doorknob. She turned back to Carmilla.

“Sorry. _Now_ I’m ready.”

“Not how I hoped we’d be using that sign,” Carmilla grumbled to herself, then sighed when Laura sat back down. _“First_ of all--Karnstein is actually a stage name. Or, you know, my mother’s maiden name. My real last name is Morgan.”

Carmilla Morgan...Laura liked Karnstein better. She nodded. “Okay.”

“And my father’s name was Thadeus Morgan. Does that ring a bell?”

Laura frowned. “Um...maybe? I’m not sure.”

“He wrote ‘27’.”

 _“Oooooh!”_ Laura slammed her palm on the mattress. “That was super popular for awhile, wasn’t it? I hear it on the radio all the time! I mean, it was popular a long time ago, but still.”

“Yeah,” Carmilla answered, “My mother was his PR manager. And ended up marrying him. She had me at the ripe old age of twenty-one.”

Laura tried to recall the bits and pieces of information she knew about him. Tad Morgan. The quintessential rock star. A bit of knowledge floated to the surface of Laura’s mind, and she paled slightly.

“Didn’t he…?”

“When he was 31,” Carmilla answered. Her voice was devoid of emotion, but her eyes were cast to the floor. “Of a heroin overdose. He did a lot of partying.”

Immediately a hand went to cover Laura’s mouth. “Oh my God, Carm, I’m so sorry.”

Carmilla shrugged. “He was barely around. Mother took it a lot harder than me. She got really freaked out about it--she thought if I got into music I would end up getting into drugs like he did. So she tried to keep me from playing anymore.”

As she spoke her shoulders slumped.  “I can remember when I was ten, watching her throw out the little guitar I had gotten on my birthday. Dad had sent them while he was on tour. But then I dug it out of the trash,” a little half smirk formed, “I was too young to understand why, but I was smart enough to know that I should hide it under my bed and only play it when she wasn’t around.”

Laura wanted _so badly_ to run a hand down Carmilla’s face, to kiss her, to hug her, _something_. But she was afraid that if she did anything it would make Carmilla change her mind. So Laura only bit her lip and folded her hands tightly in her lap.

“Dad had taught me how to play guitar since I was old enough to understand what a chord was. And I was _good._ There was no chance in Hell I was going to let anything stop me. So I went on the internet, hid more lesson books under my bed, and kept practicing when Mother was at work.

“She caught me a few times over the years. And we argued. A lot. It came to a head when I was fifteen. I snuck out to a concert with some of my friends--they smoked pot. I didn’t, but the smell got on my clothes. I came home and Mother got so pissed when she smelled it on me, that--”

Carmilla paused. She leaned back on the couch, refusing to look at Laura.

Laura’s mouth opened in shock, unable to stay quiet anymore. “Carm...she didn’t hit you, did she?”

“...More of a slap,” Carmilla grumbled, “Anyway, after that, she thought it’d be better for me to live with my older sister.”

“You have an older sister?” Carmilla looked at Laura now.

“Yeah. My dad had a fling when he was a teenager or something. Mattie and I didn’t get to see each other a lot, but we skyped. We’re pretty close. She knew everything that was going on and she thought Mother was being an idiot. Which meant sending me there was the worst possible way to keep me out of music.”

She smiled again, looking up at the ceiling. “Best year of my life. I started booking gigs, getting a little fanbase. I could finally pursue my music and Mattie gave my Mother lots of fake updates about how I was staying out of trouble. Things were going good and I was on track to maybe get a recording contract if I kept at it.”

Her smile was so warm, gaze softening with remembrance, that Laura couldn’t help but smile too at seeing her...Carmilla so happy.

But then she frowned again.

“When  I was sixteen Ell Kershaw came to town for a concert.”

Laura couldn’t help but squirm a little in her seat uncomfortably. She realized what Carmilla was doing. The whole backstory? She was stalling. Now was the part for her to get worried about. Carmilla cross her arms over her chest.

“Mattie got me a ticket. And...you know, I was lying through my teeth. I was pretty much her biggest fan. Like, tween girls love Justin Bieber kind of a fan, you know? It’s, uh…” Her cheeks started to turn red, “It’s kind of embarrassing now, but I snuck backstage after the concert--”

“I _knew_ you liked her music!” Laura exclaimed, “I knew it, no one doesn’t like Ell Kershaw--”

“You still going to be smug if I tell you we hooked up backstage?”

Laura’s face immediately fell, eyes widening. Carmilla looked at Laura again, raising an eyebrow. “Oh. Um. Wow. Okay. I mean, I guess I should have seen that coming as a possibility, but...um. Wow.”

“I _knew_ this was a bad idea,” Carmilla groaned.

“No! I swear, this isn’t that big a deal. Seriously. What else happened?” Laura leaned in. There was _no way_ Carmilla was stopping now. Carmilla looked at Laura for a moment before rolling her eyes.

“The security tried to kick me out. She caught a glimpse of me and thought I was hot. So she told them she knew me. I lied to her and told her I was eighteen, she invited me back to her dressing room, I lost my virginity,” Carmilla continued dryly.

She regretted saying that immediately, and she added, “Fuck, that was a little too much information. I haven’t been able to tell _anyone_ for years and it kind of just came out. Sorry.”

Laura couldn’t even speak. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish before she finally managed to get out, “...No. No, you can finish.”

Carmilla ran a hand through her hair uncomfortably. “Shit, Laura, do I need to--”

“You cannot say ‘I lost my virginity to a pop star’ and refuse to finish the story!” Laura exclaimed.

“...You _want_ to hear about my six month illicit affair with her?”

“In the way that you can’t take your eyes off a car crash and _what do you mean six months.”_

Carmilla shrugged. “I told her I was eighteen. She asked me to go on the tour with her. I was a groupie. Mattie covered for me--apparently the idea of how pissed Mother would be was more appealing than not letting her sister go on the road with a strange woman. I kept skyping her to let her know I was okay, she made excuses when Mother wanted to speak to me. It helped that we lived on opposite ends of the country.”

“You...dated...Ell Kershaw?”

 _“Dated?”_ Carmilla laughed bitterly. “We never went on a date. She was sleeping with plenty of other girls. I was just her favorite. She...I hate to say it, but a lot of what I learned that really made me a contender on this show, I learned from her.”

Laura remembered Ell’s little self-satisfied smiles and her arrogance. She had to admit; she could see how some of that had rubbed off on Carmilla. It made sense.

“Okay, so what happened?” Laura asked softly. Carmilla heaved a sigh.

“Mother got suspicious and showed up at Mattie’s place. Unannounced. And as tough as my sister is, it’s pretty much impossible to lie to my Mother face to face for too long. She figured out where I was. Showed up at one of Ell’s concerts in a fucking _rage._ Threatened to get her collared for stat rape,” Carmilla winced, “Which is how Ell learned I was sixteen. She blew up on me. And threatened that if I ever told anyone--”

“The non-disclosure agreement thing?”

Carmilla sucked in a breath and nodded. “Six months of all of that, and I was forced to pretend it never happened. And she basically told me I was just a fuck buddy to her. I thought--shit, I was sixteen and she was a rock star. I know it was ridiculous but I really thought I was falling for her. The worst part is...it was my fault. I lied to her. I told her I was legal and I wasn’t.”

She ran a hand down her face, taking a breath. “...And there you go. Mother locked me in the house for two years and I finally got out to audition for this. Here we are,” she smiled weakly, “So, still happy I told you?”

Laura didn’t say anything.

“Look, I know my past is super sleazy. If you don’t want to do this anymore, I understand. I’m not exactly proud of everything either--”

“Oh. My. God.” Laura got up, bending down to kiss Carmilla. She pulled away and Carmilla blinked.

“Uh. Wow.”

“My girlfriend,” Laura said, “Managed to sleep with the hottest musician in the _world_ , and she is choosing to date me. How is this supposed to make me feel bad about myself, again? Also, Ell is a total raging bad person. Seriously.”

Carmilla’s gaze softened. She pulled Laura down into her lap, arms wrapping around her.

“You don’t think I’m a douche who lied about her age, then?”

“She was, what? Seven years older than you, Carmilla? It doesn’t matter what you did. It couldn’t have been that hard to figure out how old you really were. She took advantage of you and it doesn’t matter if you said you were eighteen or not,” Laura started to kiss Carmilla on the cheek. “I am so sorry that happened to you, though.”  

Carmilla closed one eye as Laura continued kissing her face. “So you’re not super intimidated now that you know I was with a celebrity?”

“Of course I am. But I was already really intimidated anyway. You’re all dark and broody and _mysterious._ Except now,” Laura mused, “You’re a little less mysterious. So I guess that helps.”

“You’re not going to miss that air of mystery that made me so attractive, then?” Carmilla teased.

“Actually, watching you open up to me is kind of _extremely_ attractive.”

Carmilla didn’t hesitate to kiss Laura. For a few moments Laura melted into her arms before pulling back.

“We will get through this. I promise. We can’t let her get to us, you know? I promise I’ll fangirl about her less. As in, never. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything else I can do, just let me know?”

Carmilla looked away, running a hand through her hair. “I want to pretend none of that happened. Can we do that?”

Laura bit her lip. “Of course. Totally. We can do that.”

She got up. “I’m going to get dressed for bed, okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Carmilla drawled, stretching back out on the couch.

Laura grabbed her clothes, walking into the bathroom.

Carmilla had an affair with a celebrity.

Laura had to work with her for the competition.

If she even _hinted_ that she knew anything, Carmilla was in huge trouble. She had no idea how those non-disclosure things worked, but she assumed something bad happened if you broke them.

Had Laura mentioned to Carmilla that she was terrible at keeping secrets…?

No. Okay. Well, Laura just had to get really good, really fast, at keeping _this_ secret.

She walked out, extending a hand to Carmilla. “Come on, Carm. We share the bed from now on.”

Carmilla grinned, taking Laura’s hand and following her to the bed. Laura’s arms wrapped around her from behind.

“...Why are you the big spoon?” Carmilla grumbled.

“I like it,” Laura answered.

“You know, I did just tell you all about my tragic past…”

Laura sighed. “So much for pretending it never happened.” She rolled over, and Carmilla pressed herself close to her back.

“Night, Cupcake,” Carmilla muttered, kissing the top of Laura hair, “Thanks.”

They had been kissing practically every chance they had gotten since the first time, but so far this one had to be Laura’s favorite.

**Author's Note:**

> All chapters except for chapter 6 and 8 are written by Marzo. (marzo2theletter.tumblr.com) 
> 
> The fic, however, would not have been possible without all of the effort put in by Ashton (Genderfuck) in plotting.


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